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| Deirdre |
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| Do not let any woman read this verse! It is for men, and after them their sons, And their son's sons! The time comes when our hearts sink utterly; When we remember Deirdre, and her tale, And that her lips are dust. Once she did tread upon the earth: men took her hand; They looked into her eyes and said their say, And she replied to them. More than a thousand years it is since she Was beautiful: she trod the waving grass; She saw the clouds. Two thousand years! The grass is still the same, The clouds as lovely as they were that time When Dierdre was alive. But there has been again no woman born Who was so beautiful; not one so beautiful Of all the women born. Let all men go apart and mourn together! No man can ever love her! Not a man Can dream to be her lover. No man can bend before her! No man say- What could one say to her? There are no words That one could say to her! Now she is but a story that is told Beside the fire! No man can ever be The friend of that poor queen! |