Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/146

140 Was meted it, to be thus pound in clay

That daubs its whiteness and offends its pride.

There were loud questions in the rainbow's end,

And hurried answers, and a sound of spears.

And through the yellow blaze I saw one bend

Down on a trembling white knee, and her tears

Fell down in globes of light, and her small mouth

Was filled up with a name unspoken. Years

Of waiting love, and all their long, long drought

Of kisses parched her lips, and did she spend

Her eyes blue candles searching thro' her fears.

"She hath loved Ganymede, the stolen boy."

Said one, and then another, "Let us sing

To Zeus that he may give her living joy

Above Olympus, where the cool hill-spring