"Cursed be the gold that gilds the straightened forehead of the fool."
"Many an evening by the waters did we watch the stately ships,
And our spirits rushed together at the touching of the lips."
These had made him smile, and then he did not read any more of Tennyson.... He was fond of telling her about the younger Irish poets and of quoting passages from their poems. Now it would be a line or so from Colum or Stephens, again a verse from Seumas O'Sullivan or Joseph Campbell. Continually he spoke with enthusiasm of the man they called Æ.... She found it difficult to believe that such men could be living in Ireland at the present time.
"And would you see them about Dublin?"
"Yes, you'd see them often."
"Real poets?"
"Real poets surely. But of course they have earthly interests as well. One is a farmer—"
"A farmer!!!"
This she found it hardest of all to believe, for the word "farmer" made her see so clearly the sullen men with the dirty beards who came in the white roads every evening to drink in Garradrimna. There was no poetry in them.