Iii

I knew that I had seen, had seen at last That girl my unremembering nights hold fast Or else my dreams that fly, If I should rub an eye,

And yet in flying fling into my meat A crazy juice that makes the pulses beat As though I had been undone By Homer's Paragon

Who never gave the burning town a thought; To such a pitch of folly I am brought, Being caught between the pull Of the dark moon and the full,

The commonness of thought and images That have the frenzy of our Western seas. Thereon I made my moan, And after kissed a stone,

And after that arranged it in a song Seeing that I, ignorant for so long, Had been rewarded thus In Cormac's ruined house.