 | From the Hills of Dream |  |
5
Cathair-Sith.
From green to white, from white to green,
I watch the waves that wash between
The Rainbow-Pillars none hath seen.
I watch the waves that wash between
The Rainbow-Pillars none hath seen.
God takes a wind from out the sky:
It spreads its cloud-white wings to fly;
Its time hath come to it to die.
It spreads its cloud-white wings to fly;
Its time hath come to it to die.
God takes a wind from out the pines:
It spreads its green-gloom wings, and shines
Gold-green against the Rainbow-Signs.
It spreads its green-gloom wings, and shines
Gold-green against the Rainbow-Signs.
The weaving of the Sea is made
Green, thus, with sacred pine-tree shade;
White with cloud feathers overlaid.
Green, thus, with sacred pine-tree shade;
White with cloud feathers overlaid.
Forever thus the green is spun,
The white across the surface run:
This is the rune that I have won.
The white across the surface run:
This is the rune that I have won.
This is the rune hath come to me
Out of the mystery of the sea;
When dreaming, where, far-off, may be
The Rainbow-Pillars of Caershee.
Out of the mystery of the sea;
When dreaming, where, far-off, may be
The Rainbow-Pillars of Caershee.
| From the Hills of Dream | |