|Location:||Upright. In the Den.|
Irish Honorarium, in honor of Oscar Wilde, with thanks to W.B. Yeats.
Set sail burnt ships to Connemara
The Children of Danann.
They cloaked Fir Bolg in smoke and mist
Wrought by Nuada's hand.
Three hundred strong escaped in flight
White moths flit toward a flame.
They disarmed the chosen son
Blemished by Sreng
Labhraíonn siad Gaelic i Connacht
And shall ‘til time is done
Pluck silvered apples from the moon
And golden, from the sun.
|Total Reviews Received:||1|
|Total Ratings Received:||6|