Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/217

 THE WEDDING MORNING

the feast, and let there be

Such music heard as best beseems

A king's son coming from the sea

To wed a maiden of the streams.

Poets, pale for long ago,

Bring sweet sounds from rock and flood,

You by echo's accent know

Where the water is and wood.

Harpers whom the moths of Time

Bent and wrinkled dusty brown,

Her chains are falling with a chime,

Sweet as bells in Heaven town.

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