And the things that are in hatred and wrath no longer shall be.
I would dream a dream at twilight of ease and beauty and peace.
The foamless waves are falling soft on the sands of Lissadil
And the world is wrapped in quiet and a floating dream of grey;
But the wild winds of the twilight blow straight from the haunted hill
And the stars come out of the darkness and shine over Knocknarea—
I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve;
No rest for the heart once caught in the net of her yellow hair—
No quiet for the fallen wind, no peace for the broken wave;