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Danu's Sorrow


In Tir na n-Og the poets dwell,

the golden aes sidhe;

once gods, the children of Danu

are naught but memory.


The Dagda, father of them all,

on Uaithne gently plays --

once seasons turned to its fair song,

but not a tree now sways.


The druids once told tales in awe

of Ogma eloquent,

ears captive to his magic tongue --

yet now his voice is spent.


Bodb Derg the many-ruling king,

a poet brave and wise;

the silver sandals on his feet

now dazzle blinded eyes.


Proud Brigit, smith and healer queen,

bold poetess of fire,

was tamed into a quiet saint

to silently expire.


In Tir na n-Og the poets dwell,

their words lost to the years,

forgot by unheroic cross

and drowned in Erin’s tears.

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