And Cumhal saw like a drifting smoke
All manner of blessed souls,
Women and children, young men with books,
And old men with croziers and stoles,
'Praise God and God's mother,' Dathi said,
For God and God's mother have sent
'The blessedest souls that walk in the world
'To fill your heart with content,'
'And which is the blessedest,' Cumhal said,
'Where all are comely and good?
'Is it these that with golden thuribles
'Are singing about the wood?'
'My eyes are blinking,' Dathi said,
'With the secrets of God half blind,
'But I can see where the wind goes
'And follow the way of the wind;
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