To W. B. Yeats

A wind of dreams comes singing over sea,
From where the white waves kiss the coasts of home,
Bringing upon its rainbow wings to me
Glimpses of days gone by,
Of wastes of water, where the sea-gulls cry
Above the sounding foam.

Or through the mists do Finn and Usheen ride
With all their men along some faery shore,
While Bran and Sgeolan follow at their side,
Adown the shadowy track,
Till in the sunset Caoilte's hair blows back,
And Niamh calls once more.

Or the brown bees hum through the drowsy day
In glades of Inisfree, where sunlight gleams,


The bean-flower scents again the dear old way,
Once more the turf fire burns,
The memory of the long dead past returns
Borne on that wind of dreams.

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