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Wild honey from various thyme

By Michael Field [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper]

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A TRAIN OF QUEENS
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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40

A TRAIN OF QUEENS

Thrice fifty queens who loved him, royal train,
From their far lands are gathered as a flock
For fair Cuchulain fallen in battle shock!
The winds are loosed:—a little wind, with rain,
Crept through the air and told them he was slain;
And they, strong in their blood, of elvan stock,
Muster to meet him, beat their breasts, and rock
Their pain, and wring their hands, and sigh again
In concert, with one terrible, lone sigh.
Lo, in his spirit-chariot from the tomb
The Spirit Chief!...A song is floating by,
A song of Christ and the wild day of Doom.
Alluring is the soothsay: the rich flame
Of jewelled eyes follows the Mystic Name.