and pulled her as was right; And she makes light of us though our wives do all that they can. She spreads her tail like a peacock and praises none but her man.
A man in a long green cloak that covers him up to the chin Comes down through the rocks and hazels.
Cry out that he cannot come in.
He must look for his dinner elsewhere, for no one alive shall stop Where a shame must alight on us two before the dawn is up.
No man on the ridge of the world must ever know that but us two.
Go away, go away, go away.
I will go when the night is through And I have eaten and slept and drunk to my heart's delight.
A law has been made that none shall sleep in this house to-night.
Who made that law?
We made it, and who has so good a right? Who else has to keep the house
The title work is last in the book: a play in verse concerning an Irish legend of three heroes, a shape-shifter from the sea, and his army of cat-headed followers.
The remainder of the book is minor poems praising women, lamenting lost youth, insulting imitators, and puzzling over love. Nothing is astounding, but there is consistent good writing, with some memorable lines: "cling close to me; since you were gone, My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone." "where's the wild dog that has praised his fleas?" "begone From this unlucky country that was made when the devil spat."
You can do worse than reading this one.
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