If I'd had then the eyes of a bird 
That flew the western shores 
In strong winds blowing 
Over Ballynahown and Barna 
Over seas with great waves flowing 
To break on the rocks of Carna, 
Or flew over the Burren from Kilfenora 
Above the barren craggyness of Clare 
To leave the land by Derreen or by Fenore 
And glide over the waters 
To Inshmaan or Inisshmore, 
Then, looking down 
I would have watched the ocean 
Harsh in its motion. 
I would have seen the land 
Brutal in its stillness, 
With the dividing line 
Where sea and land meet and merge 
Half-glimpsed, undefined. 

I would have seen the men 
Backs bent to the oars 
Pulling for life and living, 
Straining against the rowlocks, 
Fighting the waves 
That hammered the cliffs 
That marched on the shore. 
I would have seen the women 
Backs bent to the land 
Where the white crests of rock 
Were like the spume of frozen waves 
With shallow troughs of earth. 
This land was unforgiving 
As they hardened their hands 
In the Stone-bound fields 
That grudged them a living. 

They had it hard 
Those who lived on the edge of the world.