At the Abbey Theatre
(Imitated from Ronsard)
| Dear Craoibhin Aoibhin, look into our case. |
| When we are high and airy hundreds say |
| That if we hold that flight they’ll leave the place, |
| While those same hundreds mock another day |
| Because we have made our art of common things, |
| So bitterly, you’d dream they longed to look |
| All their lives through into some drift of wings. |
| You’ve dandled them and fed them from the book |
| And know them to the bone; impart to us— |
| We’ll keep the secret—a new trick to please. |
| Is there a bridle for this Proteus |
| That turns and changes like his draughty seas? |
| Or is there none, most popular of men, |
| But when they mock us, that we mock again? |
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