Three all the golden codgers lay,
There the silver dew,
and the great water sighed for love,
and the wind sighed too.
Man-picker Niamh leant and sighed
by Oisin on the grass;
There sighed amid his choir of love
plotinus came and looked about,
the salt-flakes on his breast,
and having stretched and yawned awhile
lay sighing like the rest.
Straddling each a dolphin's back
and steadied by a fin,
those Innocents re-live their death,
their wounds open again.
The ecstatic waters laugh because
their cries are sweet and strange,
through their ancestral patterns dance,
and the brute dolphins plunge
until, in some cliff-sheltered bay
where wades the choir of love
proffering its sacred laurel crowns,
they pitch their burdens off.