Mavrone, Mavrone, the wind among the reeds. It calls and cries, and will not let me be; And all its cry is of forgotten deeds. When men were loved of all the Daoine-Sidhe. O Shee that have forgotten how to love, And Shee that have forgotten how to hate. Asleep 'neath quicken boughs that no winds move, Come back to us ere yet it be too late. Pipe to us once again, lest we forget What piping means, till all the Silver Spears Be wild with gusty music, such as met Carolan once, amid the dusty years. Dance in your rings again: the yellow weeds You used to ride so far, mount as of old-- Play hide-and-seek with wind among the reeds, And pay your scores again with fairy gold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE DANCERS by LAURENCE BINYON A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON STILL, STILL WITH THEE by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE THE DESERTED LOVER CONSOLETH HIMSELF ... by THOMAS WYATT WINTER TREE by WALTER R. ADAMS |