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THE HARP OF AENGUS

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Edain came out of Midher’s hill, and lay

Beside young Aengus in his tower of glass,

Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds

And druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,

And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made

Of opal and ruby and pale chrysolite

Awake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings,

Sweet with all music, out of his long hair,

Because her hands had been made wild by love;

When Midher’s wife had changed her to a fly,

He made a harp with druid apple wood

That she among her winds might know he wept;

And from that hour he has watched over none

But faithful lovers.

The Complete Works

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