The high, Lapis Lazuli skies of flaming June
Are in absentia in damp and cold October
For the patterns in the grass do not last.
And so we take the winding stairway
Into the high tower above this land of forgetfulness
Where once upon a golden dawn good faeries
Danced a circle of rare delight within the sight
Of one John Mulligan esq,  who, on the last day of August
1938, according to the London Times (6/9/1938),
Met two fairies dancing near Ballingarry, West Limerick.
He said they were two foot tall, very well read and descanted
With both flair and style upon the Kabbalah and the Theosophists
And the Tibetan Book of the Dead. Fallen angels
Could be as close to me as fairy lore abides....
Faeries mourn the fall of the unicorn and the rise
Of the cross and crescent.  Enchantment comes at a heavy cost
Only tears can reveal the undercurrent of the old mythologies,
Those aristocracies of thought that bleed into the soil
And leach into the heart, where all great art is rooted.

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