Reverie
The Tower has its charms for me,
its stone enthralls all sanctity,
but I shall trade that form austere
now for the land I hold so dear.
I shall prepare a bed of leaves,
and lay my head where spirit reeves
this life to God, my heart to thee,
near Drumcliff Bay, in alchemy.
And when my sleep has rested me
I'll raise my stick, and walk the lea,
through grasses damp with fairy kell,
close by the road to Lissadell.
My path is marked by regimen,
by stones unturned on fabled fen,
by magic sign that does now seem
a remnant of a darker dream.
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