Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/144

138 I heard in my far memory making mourn.

Such music fills me with a joy half pain,

And beats a track across my life I spurn

In sober moments. Ah, this wandering brain

Could play its hurdy-gurdy all the night

To vagrant joys of days beyond the bourn.

I heard the river warble sweetly nigh

To meet the warm salt tide below the weir,

And saw a coloured line of cows pass by,—

And then a voice said quickly, "Iris here!"

"What message now hath Hera?" then I woke,

An exile in Arcadia, and a spear

Flashed by me, and ten nymphs fleet-footed broke

Out of the coppice with a silver cry,

Into the bow of lights to disappear.