Page:The Wild Swans at Coole.djvu/34

 18 Of golden king and silver lady, Bellowing up and bellowing round, Till toes mastered a sweet measure, Mouth mastered a sweet sound, Prancing round and prancing up Until they pranced upon the top.

That golden king and that wild lady Sang till stars began to fade, Hands gripped in hands, toes close together, Hair spread on the wind they made; That lady and that golden king Could like a brace of blackbirds sing.

'It's certain that my luck is broken,' That rambling jailbird Billy said; 'Before nightfall I'll pick a pocket And snug it in a feather-bed, I cannot find the peace of home On great-grandfather's battered tomb.'