123. Lament for the Poets: 1916

I HEARD the Poor Old Woman say:

“At break of day the fowler came,

And took my blackbirds from their songs

Who loved me well thro’ shame and blame.

No more from lovely distances

Their songs shall bless me mile by mile,

Nor to white Ashbourne call me down

To wear my crown another while.

With bended flowers the angels mark

For the skylark the places they lie,

From there its little family

Shall dip their wings first in the sky.

And when the first surprise of flight

Sweet songs excite, from the far dawn

Shall there come blackbirds loud with love,

Sweet echoes of the singers gone.

But in the lonely hush of eve

Weeping I grieve the silent bills.”

I heard the Poor Old Woman say

In Derry of the little hills.