It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.

The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves The brilliant moon and all the milky sky And all that famous harmony of leaves Had blotted out man's image and his cry.

And the merry love the fiddle, and the merry love to dance.

For the good are always the merry, / Save by an evil chance,/ And the merry love the fiddle,/ And the merry love to dance: / And when the folk there spy me,/ They will all come up to me, / With,”Here is the fiddler of Dooney!” / And dance like a wave of the sea.

That beautiful mild woman for whose sake There's many a one shall find out all heartache On finding that her voice is sweet and low Replied, 'To be born a woman is to know- Although they do not talk of it at school - That we must labor to be beautiful.

Time can but make it easier to be wise / Though now it seems impossible, and so / All that you need is patience.

Life moves out of a red flare of dreams Into a common light of common hours, Until old age brings the red flare again.