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