“Yet tell me ere the dune we cross
How came you to this lonely land? 
No curraghs in the tideway toss
And none is beached upon the strand!”

The weary pilgrim raised his head
And looked and smiled and said, “From far,
My wandering feet have here been led
By the glory of a shining star....”

St. Colum gravely bowed, and said,
“Enough, my friend, I ask no more;
Doubtless some silence-vow was laid
Upon thee, ere thou sought’st this shore: 

“Now, come:  and doff this raiment sad
And those rough sandals from thy feet: 
The holy brethren will be glad
To haven thee in our retreat.”

Together past the praying cells
And past the wattle-woven dome
Whence rang the tremulous vesper bells
St. Colum brought the stranger home.

From thyme-sweet pastures grey with dews
The milch-cows came with swinging tails: 
And whirling high the wailing mews
Screamed o’er the brothers at their pails.

A single spire of smoke arose,
And hung, a phantom, in the cold: 
Three younger monks set forth to close
The ewes and lambs within the fold.

The purple twilight stole above
The grey-green dunes, the furrowed leas: 
And Dusk, with breast as of a dove,
Brooded:  and everywhere was peace.

Within the low refectory sate
The little clan of holy folk: 
Then, while the brothers mused and ate,
The wayfarer arose and spoke....

“O Colum of Iona-Isle,
And ye who dwell in God’s quiet place,
Before I crossed your narrow kyle
I looked in Heaven upon Christ’s face.”

Thereat St. Colum’s startled glance
Swept o’er the man so poorly clad,
And all the brethren looked askance
In fear the pilgrim-guest was mad.

“And, Colum of God’s Church i’ the sea
And all ye Brothers of the Rood,
The Lord Christ gave a dream to me
And bade me bring it ye as food.

“Lift to the wandering cloud your eyes
And let them scan the wandering Deep.... 
Hark ye not there the wandering sighs
Of brethren ye as outcasts keep?”

Thereat the stranger bowed, and blessed;
Then, grave and silent, sought his cell: 
St. Colum mused upon his guest,
Dumb wonder on the others fell.

At dead of night the Abbot came
To where the weary wayfarer slept: 
“Tell me,” he said, “thy holy name...” 
—­No more, for on bowed knees he wept....

Great awe and wonder fell on him;
His mind was like a lonely wild
When suddenly is heard a hymn
Sung by a little innocent child.

For now he knew their guest to be
No man as he and his, but one
Who in the Courts of Ecstasy
Worships, flame-winged, the Eternal Son.

The poor bare cell was filled with light,
That came from the swung moons the Seven
Seraphim swing day and night
Adown the infinite walls of Heaven.