eternal beauty wandering on her way.
come near, come near, come near—Ah, leave me still
A little space for the rose-breath to fill
Lest I no more hear common things that crave;
The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,
The field mouse running by me in the grass
And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;
But seek alone to hear the strange things said
By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,
And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.
come near; I would, before my time to go,
Sing of old eire and the ancient ways: