Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/130



a field by Cahirconlish I stood on sleeping grass, No cry I made to Heaven Prom my dumb lips would pass.

Three days, three nights I slumbered, And till I woke again Those I have loved have sought me, And sorrowed all in vain.

My neighbours still upbraid me, And murmur as I pass, “There goes a man enchanted. He trod on fairy grass.”

My little ones around me, They claim my old caress, I push them roughly from me With hands that cannot bless.

My wife upon my shoulder A bitter tear lets fall, I turn away in anger And love her not at all.

For like a man surrounded. In some sun-haunted lane. By countless wings that follow, A grey and stinging chain,