“They are waiting for me somewhere beyond Eden Rock:My father, twenty-five, in the same suitOf Genuine Irish Tweed, his terrier JackStill two years old and trembling at his feet.{{pb}}My mother, twenty-three, in a sprigged dressDrawn at the waist, ribbon in her straw hat,Has spread the stiff white cloth over the grass.Her hair, the colour of wheat, takes on the light.”