TO W. B. YEATS

A wind of dreams comes singing over sea

From where the white waves kiss the shores of home,

Bringing upon its rainbow wings to me

Glimpses of days gone by —

Of wastes of water, where the sea-gulls cry

Above the sounding foam.

Or through the mists do Finn and Usheen ride,

With all their men, along some faery shore,

While Bran and Sgeolan follow at their side

Adown the shadowy track,

Till in the sunset Caoilte's hair blows back

And Niamh calls once more.

Or the brown bees hum through the livelong day

In glades of Inisfree, where sunlight gleams,

The bean flower scents again the dear old way,

Once more the turf-fire burns;

The memory of the long dead past returns

Borne on that wind of dreams.