Blue, blue sea.

 The blue blue sea

The blue blue sea beneath the azure sky

The April sun roasts our little corner

In the garden with the new mown grass

Suggests we’re not in Wexford but in 

Spain. 

White white the lighthouse stands so proud

Above a swirling sea where breakers crash

On treacherous reefs that guard old Tuskar

Whose light has saved a thousand ships or more. 

Eighteen, nineteen, twenty the mercury is rising

While out at sea a ferry sailing

Serenely past our rustic hedge

On its way to Rosslare Harbour. 

The dogs are curled in balls beneath the tree

That bursts with pretty buds about to flower

With promises of apples come the harvest season

While birds have fallen into a drowsy silence. 

Peace invades and conquers all 

Enveloped in the noontime heat

Exiled all sorrows for the while

Expelled the narrow troubles of the world. 

Days like this that recall Eden and our innocence

The week that follows Easter and the holy incense 

That lingers in the nave of Pugin’s church

Gives pilgrims comfort as they gather in the sanctuary. 

Wexford peace and the world lies still

Captured, enraptured in the magic moments 

That soothe our hearts and cleanse our souls

On a splendid day in a country garden.