Peace I
Give
me
the
pulse
of
the
tide
again
And
the
slow
lapse
of
the
leaves,
The
rustling
gold
of
a
field
of
grain
And
a
bird
in
the
nested
eaves;
And
a
fishing-smack
in
the
old
harbour
Where
all
was
happy
and
young;
And
an
echo
or
two
of
the
songs
I
knew
When
songs
could
still
be
sung.
For
I
would
empty
my
heart
of
all
This
world's
implacable
roar,
And
I
would
turn
to
my
home,
and
fall
Asleep
in
my
home
once
more;
And
I
would
forget
what
the
cities
say,
And
the
folly
of
all
the
wise,
And
turn
to
my
own
true
folk
this
day,
And
the
love
in
their
constant
eyes.
There
is
peace,
peace,
where
the
sea-birds
wheel,
And
peace
in
the
breaking
wave;
And
I
have
a
broken
heart
to
heal,
And
a
broken
soul
to
save.
