Bokelskere.no

I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods

Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness

That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile

Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,
Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented, for I know that Quiet

Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,

Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.