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“The Host of the Air” by W. B. Yeats 🇮🇪 (13 Jun 1865 – 28 Jan 1939)
O’Driscoll drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
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And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
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He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
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And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
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The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
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But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
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The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
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He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
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He bore her away in his atms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
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O’Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
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But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.