thee, O Angel of the Lord. 

 

 

 TRANSFORMATION 

 In other climes as the times shall fleet You yet may the hero be, And a loving heart may beat, my sweet, In a woman's breast for thee. 

 Your flight shall be in the height above, My wings droop low on the lea. For the eagle must grow a dove, my love, And the dove an eagle be. 

 

 

 CHILDREN OF LIR 

 We woke from our sleep in the bosom where cradled together we lay: The love of the Dark Hidden Father went with us upon our way. And gay was the breath in our being, and never a sorrow or fear Was on us, as singing together, we flew from the infinite Lir. 

 Through nights lit with diamond and sapphire we raced with the Children of Dawn, A chain that was silver and golden linked spirit to spirit, my swan. Till day in the heavens passed over, and still grew the beat of our wings, And the Breath of the Darkness enfolded to teach us unspeakable things. 

 Yet lower we fell and for comfort our pinionless spirits had now The leaning of bosom to bosom, the lifting of lip unto brow. Though chained to the earth yet we mourned not the loss of our heaven above, But passed from the vision of Beauty to the fathomless being of Love. 

 Still gay is the breath in our being, we wait for the Bell Branch to ring To call us away to the Father, and then we will rise on the wing, And fly through the twilights of time till the home lights of heaven appear; Our spirits through love and through longing made one in the infinite Lir. 

 

 

 LIGHT AND DARK 

 Not the soul that's whitest Wakens love the sweetest: When the heart is lightest Oft the charm is fleetest. 

 Prev. P 14/28 next