Under Saturn

Under Saturn

Do not because this day I have grown saturnine Imagine that some lost love, unassailable Being a portion of my youth, can make me pine And so forget the comfort that no words can tell Your coming brought; though I acknowledge that I have gone On a fantastic ride, my horse's flanks were spurred By childish memories of an old cross Pollexfen, And of a Middleton, whose name you never heard, And of a red-haired Yeats whose looks, although he died Before my time, seem like a vivid memory. You heard that labouring man who had served my people.  He said Upon the open road, near to the Sligo quay— No, no, not said, but cried it out—“You have come again And surely after twenty years it was time to come.” I am thinking of a child's vow sworn in vain Never to leave that valley his fathers called their home.

November 1919