Edain 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.
William Butler YeatsAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: irish
- Born: June 13, 1865
- Died: January 28, 1939
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