Into the Twilight

Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn,Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;Laugh heart again in the gray twilight,Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.

Your mother Eire is always young,Dew ever shining and twilight gray;Though hope fall form you and love decay,Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.

Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill:For there the mystical brotherhoodOf sun and moon and hollow and woodAnd river and stream work out their will;

And God stands winding His lonely horn,And time and the world are ever in flight;And love is less kind than the gray twilight,And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.