1 month ago Their brows were white as fragrant milk, Their cloaks made out of pale yellow silk, And trimmed with many a crimson feather: And when they saw (the cloak I wore Was dim with mire of a mortal shore:1.9), They fingered it and gazed on me And laughed like murmurs of the sea; But Niam with a swift distress Bid them away and hold their peace; And when they heard her voice they ran And knelt them, every maid and man And kissed, as they would never cease, Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress. She bade them bring us to (the hall Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun:1.9), A Druid dream of the end of days When the stars are to wane and the world be done. ERH PRO 0 20
