Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/272

 THE DEAD KINGS

the dead kings came to me

At Rosnaree, where I was dreaming.

A few stars glimmered through the morn,

And down the thorn the dews were streaming.

And every dead king had a story

Of ancient glory, sweetly told.

It was too early for the lark,

But the starry dark had tints of gold.

I listened to the sorrows three

Of that Eirë passed into song.

A cock crowed near a hazel croft,

And up aloft dim larks winged strong.

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