ten, for
the greatest songs and stories of all are from the Unseen----"

It was the old man dreaming aloud.

"Ireland isn't a place any more. It is a passion infused through the
world," he added.

"But the fairies are still there," the little girl said.

"Some are left with the old mothers--yes, some are left. But many have
taken the field, and not for the wars."

A four-day moon was dropping fast in the low west. Jupiter was climbing
the east in imperial purple--as if to take command.... The littlest boy
stirred in the arms of the Dakotan and began to speak, staring at the
fire. We all turned and bent to listen--and it was that very thing that
spoiled it--for the sentence faltered and flew away.

We all wanted to know what had been born in that long silence, for the
firelight was bright in two eyes that were very wide and wise--but the
brain was only seven.... I left the circle and went up the cliff to
find a book in the study--a well-used book, an American book. Returning,
I read this from it, holding the page close to the fire:

OLD IRELAND

Far hence, amid an isle of wondrous beauty,
Crouching over a grave, an ancient, sorrowful mother,
Once a queen--now lean and tatter'd, seated on the ground,
Her old white hair drooping dishevel'd round her shoulders;
Long silent--she too long silent--mourning her shrouded hope and heir;
Of all the earth her heart most full of sorrow, because most full of love.

Yet a word, ancient mother;
You need crouch there no longer on the cold ground, with forehead between
your knees;
O you need not sit there, veil'd in your old white hair, so dishevel'd;
For know you, the one you mourn is not in that grave;
It was an illusion--the heir, the son you love, was not really dead;
The Lord is not dead--he is risen, young and strong, in another country;
Even while you wept there by your fallen harp, by the grave,
What you wept for, was translated, pass'd from the grave,
The winds favoured and the sea sail'd it,
And now with rosy and new blood,
Moves to-day in a new country.

One by one they dropped off asleep, the little ones first, as the moon
went down--their thoughts so full of stars, asking so dauntlessly all
questions of world and sky. What I could, I answered, but I felt as
young as any. It seemed their dreams were fresher than mine, and their
closeness to God.... The little girl touched me, as we drifted away----

"May you meet the South Wind!" she w