And he sang of the wondrous far-off places
That a man may only see in dreams,
The death-still, odorous, starlit spaces
where Time is lost and no life gleams.

And there till the day had its crest uplifted,
He stood with his still face bent on me,
Then forth with the Dawn departing drifted
Light as a foam-fleck on the sea.

And now my heart is the heart of a swallow
That here no solace of rest may find,
Forevermore I follow and follow
His white feet glancing down the wind.

And forevermore in my ears are ringing--
(Oh, red lips yet shall I kiss you dumb!)
Twain sole words of that May morn's singing,
Calling to me "Hither"! and "Come"!

From flower-bright fields to the wild lake-sedges
Crying my steps when Day has gone,
Till dim and small down the Night's pale edges
The stars have fluttered one by one.

-The Dream of Aengus Og by Eleanor Rogers Cox
(with a slight change in text from she to he)