Vagrants

And first the Night, lost in her wild black hair, 
Came crooning down the valleys to Kenmare, 
Crooning an old song lost the raths amid, 

Far fallen from love and grace, 
Since days when first the darkness Oscar hid 
And covered Niam's face: 
Night, moving slowly, lost in visions sweet 
And all the cabins listening for her feet. 

And after her came Dawn, 
As swift and wild and shy as any fawn. 
A glimmer of grey eyes, and moonlit hair, 
A flutter in the air — 
A cry of wakening birds, that hardly may 
Believe so near the day: 
Her feet went by like shadows; from her track 
You saw the dreams draw back. 

Then Day came, woman grown, and gravely sweet, 
With steady eyes and undelaying feet: 
She had no time for dreams, nor yet for song, 
For all day long 
Barefooted, mid the children born of her, 
She worked among the fields a harvester.