THE WONDERS

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the isle of Hy Brasail

That rides through the mists of Mayo, then fades like a fading sail;

I dream of the ancient wonders, but there‘ s one that haunts me more,

‘ T is the faun-like grace of Moira upon Lough Corib's shore.

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the wells of Death and Life,

Of the voices of the Forest that quell both hate and strife;

I dream of the ancient wonders, but greater than them all

Is the luring laugh of Moira when day‘ s at evenfall.

I dream of the ancient wonders, of the Cross caught up in air,

Of the swan of sweet Feale Water that was a maiden fair;

I dream of the ancient wonders, but each fades in eclipse

At the lifted arms of Moira, and Moira's lifted lips!