take me out of this dull world,
for I would ride with you
upon the wind and dance
upon the mountains like a flame.
E.B. Yeats
Where nobody gets old and godly and grave,
Where nobody gets crafty and wise,
Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue.
William Butler Yeats
It is by yonder thorn that i saw the fairy host
(O low night wind, O wind of the west!)
My love rode by, there was gold upon his brow,
And since that day I can neither eat nor rest.
I dare not pray lest I should forget his face
(O black north wind blowing cold beneath the sky!)
His face and his eyes shine between me and the sun,
If I may not be with him I would rather die.
They tell me I am cursed and I will lose my soul,
(O red wind shrieking o're the thorn grown dun!)
But he is my love and I go to him to-night,
Who rides when the thorn glistenes white beneath the moon.
He will call my name and lift me to his breast,
(Blow soft O wind 'neath the stars of the south!)
I care not for heaven and I fear not hell
If I have but kisses of his proud red mouth.
Moireen Fox
