The Danaan's Return Poem by Paddy J. P. Harris

He stood upon a seaward hill
And gave a whistle, long and piercing,
Then without care lay down a sleeping.
And when he woke he found his stead,
Proud Enbarr, pale and gleaming.

He rose from off the dewy earth
And climbed upon the snow white horse,
While whispering in his ears their course.
Not through gentle fields their way,
Or over wild mountains, covered in gorse.

He goes to the lands beyond the sun,
When gone to bed into the west.
The realm where all our dreams are blest,
Without fears or nightmares looming.
These are the lands where sleep is rest.

But this is no inhuman heaven
Built with cold marble and cloud,
Where fake insensible smiles are found,
The heaven of those who hate the Earth.
His is a place more lowly, less proud.

The pleasures are the joys of the world,
When warmth rises from the beating heart
And fills each distant body part,
Till vented by sighs and gentle smiles,
And not by rude mortal darts.

There is a winter on these isles too,
It lasts as long as pies and stews,
The tongue and mind desire to chew.
And when we tire of cosy cold
The buds burst with a greener hue.

And storms blow over, loud and strong,
To quicken the heart and keep the sun
A great pleasure, never to shun
And craggy mountains, windy and bare,
So on the lush plains we laugh and run.

And her with stars within her eyes,
Leans on a gate with a beaming smile,
As she hasn’t seen him for a while;
He left to give the world a myth,
And sailed across the salty miles

So he spurs the horse upon its way,
Not through bogs or rotten trees,
But galloping across the swollen seas,
Along the path of the ninth wave,
To that land of gentle ease.