This is the dark.

This is the dream that came of the dark.

This is the dreamer who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the rope that swung the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the dark that buried the rope that swung the sword that tracked the song was made to the breast that fired the love that followed the look the dreamer looked who dreamed the dream that came of the dark.

This is the dark, indeed!

REYNARDINE

_If by chance you look for me_ _Perhaps you'll not me find,_ _For I'll be in my castle--_ _Enquire for Reynardine!_

Sun and dark he courted me-- His eyes were red as wine: He took me for his leman, Did my sweet Reynardine.

Sun and dark the gay horn blows, The beagles run like wind: They know not where he harbours, The fairy Reynardine.

_If by chance you look for me_ _Perhaps you'll not me find,_ _For I'll be in my castle--_ _Enquire for Reynardine!_

SNOW

Hills that were dark At sparing-time last night Now in the dawn-ring Glimmer cold and white.

I AM THE GILLY OF CHRIST

I am the gilly of Christ, The mate of Mary's Son; I run the roads at seeding time, And when the harvest's done.

I sleep among the hills, The heather is my bed; I dip the termon-well for drink, And pull the sloe for bread.

No eye has ever seen me, But shepherds hear me pa.s.s, Singing at fall of even Along the shadowed gra.s.s.

The beetle is my bellman, The meadow-fire my guide, The bee and bat my ambling nags When I have need to ride.

All know me only the Stranger, Who sits on the Saxon's height; He burned the bacach's little house On last Saint Brigid's Night.

He sups off silver dishes, And drinks in a golden horn, But he will wake a wiser man Upon the Judgment Morn!

I am the gilly of Christ, The mate of Mary's Son; I run the roads at seeding time, And when the harvest's done.

The seed I sow is lucky, The corn I reap is red, And whoso sings the Gilly's Rann Will never cry for bread.

GO, PLOUGHMAN, PLOUGH

Go, ploughman, plough The mearing lands, The meadow lands, The mountain lands: All life is bare Beneath your share, All love is in your l.u.s.ty hands.

Up, horses, now!

And straight and true Let every broken furrow run: The strength you sweat Shall blossom yet In golden glory to the sun.

GO, REAPER

Go, reaper, Speed and reap, Go take the harvest Of the plough: The wheat is standing Broad and deep, The barley glumes Are golden now.

Labour is hard, But it endures Like love: The land is yours: Go reap the life It gives you now, O sunbrowned master Of the plough!

THE GOOD PEOPLE

The millway path looks like a wraith, The lock is black as ink, And silently in stream and sky The stars begin to blink.

I see them pa.s.s along the gra.s.s With slow and solemn tread: Aoibheall, their queen, is in between-- A corpse is at their head!

They wander on with faces wan, And dirges sad as wind.

I know not, but it may be that The dead's of human kind.