Deirdre

Do not let any woman read this verse;     It is for men, and after them their sons     And their sons' sons.     The time comes when our hearts sink utterly;     When we remember Deirdre and her tale,     And that her lips are dust.     Once she did tread the earth: men took her hand;.     They looked into her eyes and said their say,     And she replied to them.     More than a thousand years it is since she     Was beautiful: she trod the waving grass;     She saw the clouds.     A thousand years! The grass is still the same,     The clouds as lovely as they were that time     When Deirdre was alive.     But there has never been a woman born     Who was so beautiful, not one so beautiful     Of all the women born.     Let all men go apart and mourn together;     No man can ever love her; not a man     Can ever be her lover.     No man can bend before her: no man say -     What could one say to her? There are no words     That one could say to her!     Now she is but a story that is told     Beside the fire! No man can ever be     The friend of that poor queen.