NOW must I these three praise—
Three women that have wrought
What joy is in my days:
One because no thought,
Nor those unpassing cares,

ALL the heavy days are over;
Leave the body’s coloured pride
Underneath the grass and clover,
With the feet laid side by side.
Bathed in flaming founts of duty

The light of evening, Lissadell,
Great windows open to the south,
Two girls in silk kimonos, both
Beautiful, one a gazelle.
But a raving autumn shears

Scene: A circle of Druidic sto
First Fairy: Afar from our lawn a
O sister of sorrowful gaze!
Where the roses in scarlet are hea
And dream of the end of their days

HOPE that you may understand!
What can books of men that wive
In a dragon-guarded land,
paintings of the dolphin-drawn
Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons

THIS great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
Has a learning in his eye
Not a poor fool understands.
Once he lived a schoolmaster

CRAZED through much child-beari
The moon is staggering in the sky;
Moon-struck by the despairing
Glances of her wandering eye
We grope, and grope in vain,

SANG Solomon to Sheba,
And kissed her dusky face,
‘All day long from mid-day
We have talked in the one place,
All day long from shadowless noon

The old priest Peter Gilligan
Was weary night and day
For half his flock were in their b
Or under green sods lay.
Once, while he nodded in a chair

That lover of a night
Came when he would,
Went in the dawning light
Whether I would or no;
Men come, men go;