11-15-2011, 12:07 PM
In Tir na n-Og the poets dwell
The golden aes sidhe
Once gods, the children of Danu
Are naught but memory
The Dagda, father of them all
On Uaithne gently plays
Once seasons turned to its fair song
But not a tree now sways
The druids once told tales in awe
Of Ogma eloquent
Ears captive to his magic tongue
Yet now his voice is spent
Bodb Derg the many-ruling king
A poet brave and wise
The silver sandals on his feet
Now dazzle blinded eyes
Proud Brigit, smith and healer queen
Once poetess of fire
Was tamed into a quiet saint
To silently expire
In Tir na n-Og the poets dwell
Their words lost to the years
Forgot by unheroic cross
And drowned in Erin’s tears
The golden aes sidhe
Once gods, the children of Danu
Are naught but memory
The Dagda, father of them all
On Uaithne gently plays
Once seasons turned to its fair song
But not a tree now sways
The druids once told tales in awe
Of Ogma eloquent
Ears captive to his magic tongue
Yet now his voice is spent
Bodb Derg the many-ruling king
A poet brave and wise
The silver sandals on his feet
Now dazzle blinded eyes
Proud Brigit, smith and healer queen
Once poetess of fire
Was tamed into a quiet saint
To silently expire
In Tir na n-Og the poets dwell
Their words lost to the years
Forgot by unheroic cross
And drowned in Erin’s tears
It could be worse