Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/112

 TO LORD DUNSANY

(ON HIS RETURN FROM EAST AFRICA)

you I knit these lines, and on their ends

Hang little tossing bells to ring you home.

The music is all cracked, and Poesy tends

To richer blooms than mine; but you who roam

Thro' coloured gardens of the highest muse,

And leave the door ajar sometimes that we

May steal small breathing things of reds and blues

And things of white sucked empty by the bee,

Will listen to this bunch of bells from me. 106