I callon those that call me son,
grandson, or great-grandson,
on uncles, aunts, great-uncles or great-aunts,
to judge what I have done.
Have I, that put it into words,
spoilt what old loins have sent?
Eyes spiritualised by death can judge,
i cannot, but I am not content.
He that in Sligo at Drumcliff
set up the old stone Cross,
that red-headed rector in County Down,
A good man on a horse,
sandymount Corbets, that notable man
old William pollexfen,
the smuggler Middleton, Butlers far back,
half legendary men.
Infirm and aged I might stay
in some good company,
i who have always hated work,
smiling at the sea,
or demonstrate in my own life
what Robert Browning meant
by an old hunter talking with Gods;
But I am not content.