Wednesday, July 01, 2009

New Grange

The golden hill where long-forgotten kings
Keep lonely watch upon their feasting floor
Is silent now, the Dagda's harp no more
Makes sun and moon move to its murmurous
And never in the leafy star-led Springs
Will Caer and Aengus haunt the river
For deep beneath an ogham-carven door
Dust dulls the dew-white wonder of their
Yet one may linger loving the lost dream
The magic of the heart that cannot die,

Although the Rood destroy the quicken rods;
To him through earth and air and hollow
Wild music winds, as two swans wheeling cry
Above the cromlech of the vanished gods.

Thomas Samuel Jones Jr (1882-1932)

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