| |
| EBBING, the wave of the sea | |
| Leaves, where it wantoned before | |
| Wan and naked the shore, | |
| Heavy the clotted weed. | |
| And my heart, woe is me! | 5 |
| Ebbs a wave of the sea. | |
| |
| I am the woman of Beare. | |
| Foul am I that was fair, | |
| Gold-embroidered smocks I had, | |
| Now in rags am hardly clad. | 10 |
| |
| Arms, now so poor and thin, | |
| Staring bone and shrunken skin, | |
| Once were lustrous, once caressed | |
| Chiefs and warriors to their rest. | |
| |
| Not the sage’s power, nor lone | 15 |
| Splendour of an aged throne, | |
| Wealth I envy not, nor state. | |
| Only women folk I hate. | |
| |
| On your heads, while I am cold, | |
| Shines the sun of living gold | 20 |
| Flowers shall wreathe your necks in May: | |
| For me, every month is grey. | |
| |
| Yours the bloom: but ours the fire, | |
| Even out of dead desire. | |
| Wealth, not men, ye love; but when | 25 |
| Life was in us, we loved men. | |
| |
| Fair the men, and wild the manes | |
| Of their coursers on the plains; | |
| Wild the chariots rocked, when we | |
| Raced by them for mastery. | 30 |
| |
| Lone is Femen: Vacant, bare | |
| Stands in Bregon Ronan’s chair. | |
| And the slow tooth of the sky | |
| Frets the stones where my dead lie. | |
| |
| The wave of the great sea talks; | 35 |
| Through the forest winter stalks; | |
| Not to-day by wood and sea | |
| Comes King Diarmuid here to me. | |
| |
| I know what my King does. | |
| Through the shivering reeds, across | 40 |
| Fords no mortal strength may breast, | |
| He rows—to how chill a rest! | |
| |
| Amen, Time ends all. | |
| Every acorn has to fall. | |
| Bright at feasts the candles were, | 45 |
| Dark is here the house of prayer. | |
| |
| I, that when the hour was mine | |
| Drank with kings the mead and wine, | |
| Drink whey-water now, in rags | |
| Praying among shrivelled hags. | 50 |
| |
| Amen, let my drink be whey, | |
| Let me do God’s wil all day— | |
| And, as upon God I call, | |
| Turn my blood to angry gall. | |
| |
| Ebb, flood, and ebb: I know | 55 |
| Well the ebb, and well the flow, | |
| And the second ebb, all three— | |
| Have they not come home to me! | |
| |
| Came the flood that had for waves | |
| Monarchs, mad to be my slaves, | 60 |
| Crested as by foam with bounds | |
| Of wild steeds and leaping hounds. | |
| |
| Comes no more that flooding tide | |
| To my silent dark fireside. | |
| Guests are many in my hall, | 65 |
| But a hand has touched them all. | |
| |
| Well is with the isle that feels | |
| Now the ocean backward steals: | |
| But to me my ebbing blood | |
| Brings again no forward flood. | 70 |
| |
| Ebbing, the wave of the sea | |
| Leaves, where it wantoned before, | |
| Changed past knowing the shore, | |
| Lean and lonely and grey. | |
| And far and farther from me | 75 |
| Ebbs the wave of the sea. | |
