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Under Saturn
| Do not because this day I have grown saturnine | | Imagine that lost love, inseparable from my thought | | Because I have no other youth, can make me pine; | | For how should I forget the wisdom that you brought, | | The comfort that you made? Although my wits have gone | | On a fantastic ride, my horse’s flanks are
spurred | | By childish memories of an old cross Pollexfen, | | And of a Middleton, whose name you never
heard, | | And of a red-haired Yeats whose looks, although he died | | Before my time, seem like a vivid memory. | | You heard that labouring man who had served my people. He said | | Upon the open road, near to the
Sligo quay— | | No, no, not said, but cried it out—‘You have come again, | | And surely after twenty years
it was time to come.’ | | I am thinking of a child’s vow sworn in vain | | Never to leave that valley his fathers
called their home. | | November 1919 |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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