Free to all souls the hidden beauty calls,
The sea thrift dwelling on her spray-swept height,
The lofty rose, the low-grown aconite,
The gliding river and the stream that brawls
Down the sharp cliffs with constant breaks and falls--
All these are equal in the equal light--
All waters mirror the one Infinite.
God made a garden, it was men built walls;
But the wide sea from men is wholly freed;
Freely the great waves rise and storm and break,
Nor softlier go for any landlord's need,
Where rhythmic tides flow for no miser's sake
And none hath profit of the brown sea-weed,
But all things give themselves, yet none may take.
_Moira O'Neill_
Moira O'Neill is known chiefly by a remarkable little collection of
only twenty-five lyrics, _Songs from the Glens of Antrim_ (1900),
simple tunes as unaffected as the peasants of whom she sings. The best
of her poetry is dramatic without being theatrical; melodious without
falling into the tinkle of most "popular" sentimental verse.