THE HARP OF AENGUS
 
 <1Edain came out of Midhir's hill, and lay
 Beside young Aengus in his tower of glass,
 Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds
 And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs,
 And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made
 Of opal and ruhy and pale chrysolite
 Awake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings,
 Sweet with all music, out of his long hair,
 Because her hands had been made wild by love.
 When Midhir's wife had changed her to a fly,
 He made a harp with Druid apple-wood
 That she among her winds might know he wept;
 And from that hour he has watched over none
 But faithful lovers.>1