| ‘Though to my feathers in the wet, |
| I have stood here from break of day, |
| I have not found a thing to eat, |
| For only rubbish comes my way. |
| Am I to live on lebeen-lone?’ |
| Muttered the old crane of Gort. |
| ‘For
all my pains on lebeen-lone?’ |
|
|
|
|
| King Guare walked amid his court |
| The palace-yard and river-side |
| And
there to three old beggars said, |
| ‘You that have wandered far and wide |
| Can ravel out what’s in my head. |
| Do men who least desire get most, |
| Or get the most who most desire?’ |
| A beggar said, ‘They get the
most |
| Whom man or devil cannot tire, |
| And what could make their muscles taut |
| Unless desire had made
them so?’ |
| But Guare laughed with secret thought, |
| ‘If that be true as it seems true, |
| One of you three
is a rich man, |
| For he shall have a thousand pounds |
| Who is first asleep, if but he can |
| Sleep before the
third noon sounds.’ |
| And thereon, merry as a bird |
| With his old thoughts, King Guare went |
| From river-
side and palace-yard |
| And left them to their argument. |
| ‘And if I win,’ one beggar said, |
| ‘Though I am old
I shall persuade |
| A pretty girl to share my bed’; |
| The second: ‘I shall learn a trade’; |
| The third: ‘I’ll hurry to
the course |
| Among the other gentlemen, |
| And lay it all upon a horse’; |
| The second: ‘I have thought again: |
|
|
|
|
| A farmer has more dignity.’ |
| One to another sighed and cried: |
| The exorbitant dreams of beggary, |
| That
idleness had borne to pride, |
| Sang through their teeth from noon to noon; |
| And when the second twilight
brought |
| The frenzy of the beggars’ moon |
| None closed his blood-shot eyes but sought |
| To keep his fellows
from their sleep; |
| All shouted till their anger grew |
| And they were whirling in a heap. |
|
|
|
|
| They mauled and
bit the whole night through; |
| They mauled and bit till the day shone; |
| They mauled and bit through all
that day |
| And till another night had gone, |
| Or if they made a moment’s stay |
| They sat upon their heels to
rail, |
| And when old Guare came and stood |
| Before the three to end this tale, |
| They were commingling lice
and blood. |
| ‘Time’s up,’ he cried, and all the three |
| With blood-shot eyes upon him stared. |
| ‘Time’s up,’ he
cried, and all the three |
| Fell down upon the dust and snored. |
|
|
|
|
| ‘Maybe I shall be lucky yet, |
| Now they are
silent,’ said the crane. |
| ‘Though to my feathers in the wet |
| I’ve stood as I were made of stone |
| And seen
the rubbish run about, |
| It’s certain there are trout somewhere |
| And maybe I shall take a trout |
| If but I do
not seem to care.’ |
