UNDER SATURN
 
 DO not because this day I have grown saturnine
 Imagine that lost love, inseparable from my thought
 Because I have no other youth, can make me pine;
 For how should I forget the wisdom that you brought,
 The comfort that you made? Although my wits have gone
 On a fantastic ride, my horse's flanks are spurred
 By childish memories of an old cross Pollexfen,
 And of a Middleton, whose name you never heard,
 And of a red-haired Yeats whose looks, although he died
 Before my time, seem like a vivid memory.
 You heard that labouring man who had served my
 people.  He said
 Upon the open road, near to the Sligo quay –
 No, no, not said, but cried it out – "You have come again,
 And surely after twenty years it was time to come.'
 I am thinking of a child's vow sworn in vain
 Never to leave that valley his fathers called their home.