— for Síneánn*

We drove to a lost, lonely isle,
If only once to find ourselves
Again belonging to the strands
That tided us in beads and wave,
The sea new, aloft and birds moved
As we flew, sailing under cascades,
What breathtaking strides to make
And the sun was dripping and swept
Away to us on the gentle crests breaking
We spoke soft nothings, as to know things
So simple to be kept wanting nor ever said,
The lonely star of day was sleepy, dimmed
By sparks, the shimmer to our eyes, so clear,
Shall be the hills of the isle to us, will always
Remain cast with new lamb and crowned deer,
By thorn and thistle and rimmed with broken shells
Strung on a beach so singular, before innocence
And grace, by two ****** lovers aloft in only sky
To be joined, with hands of the long night stars,
Finally reached, by the glass in the running grains
Untouched, ingrained, stained into ocean salt
Always by the seas of joy and given to each
Ever to be moved on the high tune eternal,
In stations of grass and stray wood drifted
Among wings by the slip of tides monumental,
Till when we drove away, this time, in a carriage
Old of unrestful sleep, crossed, beyond—
A bridge of sighs.