THE Plovers fly and cry around,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.
These wild birds seen on Ireland's ground
I name upon Hawaiian beaches
Estrayents, they, of all lands' ends,
They have the oceans for their reaches.
My thoughts are like the Plovers' flight,
Unguided, nestless, without bourn,
Wandering and impetuous,
Turning and flying to return.
