Ah, faerics, dancing under the moon, A Druid land, a Druid tune! While still I may, I write for you The love I lived, the dream I knew. - William Butler Yeats

Come let us mock at the good
That fancied goodness might be gay,
And sick of solitude
Might proclaim a holiday:
Wind shrieked— and where are they?

That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, 'To be born a woman is to know-
Although they do not talk of it at school -
That we must labor to be beautiful.

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.