The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,

And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;

In all poor foolish things that live a day,

By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,

And l九*九*藏*书*网earn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.

Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;

The field-mouse running by me in the grass,

Come near, that no more blinded hy mans99ｌｉｂ•ｎet fate,

Lest I no more bear common things that crave;

Come near; I would, before my time to go,

Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:

And thine own sadness, where of stars, gro99lib•netwn old

Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!

The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,

Come near, come near, come near - Ah, l九九藏书网eave me still

Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;

Eternal beauty wandering on her way.

But seek alone to hear the strange things said

I find under the boughs of love and hate,

Red Rose, prou九九藏书网d Rose, sad Rose of all my days.

In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,

Sing in their high and lonely melody.

A little space for the rose-breath to fill!

Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: