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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428685" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Children of Lir</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses;<br>Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool;<br>Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses<br>And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool.<br>Rose and green around her, silver-gray and pearly, <br>Chequered with the black rooks flying home to bed; <br>For, to wake at daybreak, birds must couch them early: <br>And the day's a long one since the dawn was red. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the chilly lakelet, in that pleasant gloaming, <br>See the sad swans sailing: they shall have no rest:<br>Never a voice to greet them save the bittern's booming <br>Where the ghostly sallows sway against the West. <br>'Sister,' saith the gray swan, 'Sister, I am weary,'<br>Turning to the white swan wet, despairing eyes; <br>'O' she saith, 'my young one! O' she saith, 'my dearie !' <br>Casts her wings about him with a storm of cries. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Woe for Lir's sweet children whom their vile stepmother <br>Glamoured with her witch-spells for a thousand years; <br>Died their father raving, on his throne another, <br>Blind before the end came from the burning tears. <br>Long the swans have wandered over lake and river; <br>Gone is all the glory of the race of Lir: <br>Gone and long forgotten like a dream of fever: <br>But the swans remember the sweet days that were. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hugh, the black and white swan with the beauteous feathers, <br>Fiachra, the black swan with the emerald breast, <br>Conn, the youngest, dearest, sheltered in all weathers, <br>Him his snow-white sister loves the tenderest. <br>These her mother gave her as she lay a-dying; <br>To her faithful keeping; faithful hath she been, <br>With her wings spread o'er them when the tempest's crying, <br>And her songs so hopeful when the sky's serene. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Other swans have nests made 'mid the reeds and rushes, <br>Lined with downy feathers where the cygnets sleep <br>Dreaming, if a bird dreams, till the daylight blushes, <br>Then they sail out swiftly on the current deep. <br>With the proud swan-father, tall, and strong, and stately, <br>And the mild swan-mother, grave with household cares, <br>All well-born and comely, all rejoicing greatly: <br>Full of honest pleasure is a life like theirs. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But alas ! for my swans with the human nature, <br>Sick with human longings, starved for human ties, <br>With their hearts all human cramped to a bird's stature. <br>And the human weeping in the bird's soft eyes. <br>Never shall my swans build nests in some green river, <br>Never fly to Southward in the autumn gray, <br>Rear no tender children, love no mates for ever; <br>Robbed alike of bird's joys and of man's are they. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Babbles Conn the youngest, 'Sister, I remember <br>At my father's palace how I went in silk, <br>Ate the juicy deer-flesh roasted from the ember, <br>Drank from golden goblets my child's draught of milk. <br>Once I rode a-hunting, laughed to see the hurry, <br>Shouted at the ball-play, on the lake did row; <br>You had for your beauty gauds that shone so rarely.'<br>'Peace' saith Fionnuala, 'that was long ago.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sister,' saith Fiachra, 'well do I remember <br>How the flaming torches lit the banquet-hall, <br>And the fire leapt skyward in the mid-December, <br>And among the rushes slept our staghounds tall. <br>By our father's right hand you sat shyly gazing, <br>Smiling half and sighing, with your eyes a-glow, <br>As the bards sang loudly all your beauty praising. '<br>'Peace,' saith Fionnuala, 'that was long ago.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sister,' then saith Hugh 'most do I remember <br>One I called my brother, one, earth's goodliest man, <br>Strong as forest oaks are where the wild vines clamber, <br>First at feast or hunting, in the battle's van. <br>Angus, you were handsome, wise, and true, and tender, <br>Loved by every comrade, feared by every foe: <br>Low, low, lies your beauty, all forgot your splendour.' <br>'Peace,' saith Fionnuala, 'that was long ago.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dews are in the clear air and the roselight paling; <br>Over sands and sedges shines the evening star; <br>And the moon's disc lonely high in heaven is sailing; <br>Silvered all the spear-heads of the rushes are. <br>Housed warm are all things as the night grows colder, <br>Water-fowl and sky-fowl dreamless in the nest; <br>But the swans go drifting, drooping wing and shoulder <br>Cleaving the still water where the fishes rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Katharine+Tynan">Katharine Tynan</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428685" data-title="The Children of Lir de Katharine Tynan" data-description="Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses;
Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool;
Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses
And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool.
Rose and green around her, silver-gray and pearly, 
Ch..."></div>
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