I encountered this poem by Helen Waddell (1889-1965)  in “Waiting for the Last Bus” by Richard Holloway, who was once Bishop of Edinburgh.https://richardswsmith.wordpress.com/2022/04/24/an-elegiac-book-filled-with-wisdom-and-poetry-that-gently-teaches-us-about-life-and-death/  The “Last Bus” is death, and Holloway’s book is a meditation on death as well as life. Poetry is hugely important to Holloway, and the book is full of references to poems and poets. I had never heard of Waddell, but I’ve now learnt that she was “an Irish poet, scholar, theological novelist, translator, publisher’s reader and playwright.” The Mounes are, as far, as I can gather, the Mountains of Mourne, and the poem was written after the death of a friend. I found the whole poem and discovered that Holloway had removed lines at the beginning and the end. I can see why he made the cuts: the poem, which is obviously about dying, is improved with the cuts. Below is the version with cuts.

Despite being a bishop, Holloway struggled with his faith, as surely the most spiritual must do, and is the light seen in the distance at the end the light of heaven? Waddell begins the full poem with “I shall not go to heaven when I die,” but by cutting that line and a few others Holloway introduces the uncertainty he feels.

I think I’ll take a road I used to know

That goes by Slieve-na-garagh and the sea.

And all day breasting me the wind will blow,

And I’ll hear nothing but the peewit’s cry

And the sea talking in the caves below.

I think it will be winter when I die

(For no-one from the North could die in spring)

And all the heather will be dead and grey,

And the bog-cotton will have blown away,

And there will be no yellow on the whin.

But I shall smell the peat

And when it’s almost dark I’ll set my feet

Where a white track goes glimmering to the hills,

And see, far up, a light . . .