[ConorMacNessa]

Hanrahan speaks to the Lovers of his Songs in coming Days

O, COLLEENS, kneeling by your altar rails long hence,
When songs I wove for my beloved hide the prayer,
And smoke from this dead heart drifts through the violet air
And covers away the smoke of myrrh and frankincense;
Bend down and pray for the great sin I wove in song,
Till Maurya of the wounded heart cry a sweet cry,
And call to my beloved and me: ‘No longer fly
‘Amid the hovering, piteous, penitential throng.’

William Butler Yeats

Lamh Foistenach Abu!

[La Enchiladita]

Conor, I wonder what to make of this, as I recall that Yeats was hopelessly in love with Maud Gonne for a very long time...