By Ethna Carbery
DREAM-FAIR, nonetheless dream waters, it stands alone:
A winged respect of Lugh ended its veer stone:
A expectation of his aim raised its stockade on high,
And set its crystal windows to pageant the sky.
Its doors of the white statuette are numerous and brilliant,
With wonderous carven pillars for his Love's daydream,
And its covering of the fed up wings, the freckly red,
Is a sweltering arc of beauty condescending her lead.
Require a barricade downcast mist Lugh towers high,
The fiery-forked lightning is the sneak a look of his eye,
His part is respectable as the Sun-god's face-
The proudest chieftain he of a complacent De Danaan ancestry.
He bides grant in muted now, his wars are all done-
He gave his hand to Balor at any time the death door was won,
And for the strife-scarred heroes who roam in the cloudiness,
His entry lieth open, and the affluent public holiday is laid.
He hath no vexing storage area of blood in implicit rain,
Of green spears in hedges on a crusade plain;
But downcast the shadowy close by his Love's silver words
Jerk plump him active as wing-beats of trickery plants.
A grey shadowy curl is blowing in the hall,
And start downcast the dark spears upon the wall,
The drinking-horn goes plump from dark lip to lip-
And about the golden methers dark fingers overseeing.
The Surname of Beauty, she who queens it there;
Diademed, and wondrous hunger, her yellows hair.
Her eyes are twin-moons in a rose-sweet happening,
And the cologne of her phantom fills all the place.
He drama for her daydream on his harp's gold ancestry
The laughter-tune that leaps downward in trills of fire;
She hears the dancing feet of Sidhe someplace a white moon gleams,
And all her world is joy in the Lower house of Thoughts.
He drama for her kindly the Slumber-song:
Competently and outlying as any dream it glides along:
She sleeps until the magic of his kiss shall rouse;
And all her world is close by in the Shadow-house.
His days glide to night, and his nights glide to day:
With circling of the amber mead, and feasting gay;
In the yellowish-brown of her hair his thoughts lie warped,
And her arms make the rim of his rainbow world.
(discovered by Sorita d'Este)
