I HAVE heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
In the Seven Woods
Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,
I am contented, for I know that Quiet
Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away
Because it is alone of all things happy.
That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile
Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness
