Return To Ireland's Eye Poem by Hugh Mitchell

Last night I had a dream of Ireland's Eye
wind-ruffled island of my childhood hour
- waves, restless seaweed, cliffs and gull-filled sky
the ruined church, the ever-watchful tower.

After a day exploring crags and beach
we'd board the motorboat to take us home
leaving the islet to unpeopled peace
its history dozing in the deepening gloom.

I dreamt that we were going there once more
with sandwiches and drinks just as before
- found roads there, streetlights, houses and a shop
with canned food, newspapers and fizzy pop.

Dream-isle of childhood - say adieu to me
some tiger crouches where you used to be.
I'm never going back to Ireland's Eye
the dream is fading - best to let it die.