145. A Return

George William Russell

WE turned back mad from the mystic mountains,
All foamed with red and with elfin gold:
Up from the heart of the twilight’s fountains
The fires enchanted were starward rolled.


We turned back mad: we thought of the morrow,
The iron clang of the far-away town:
We could not weep in our bitter sorrow,
But joy as an Arctic sun went down.

Next 10 Poems

• George William Russell : 146. The Child Of Destiny
• George William Russell : 147. Magic
• George William Russell : 148. Breaghy
• George William Russell : 149. A Farewell
• George William Russell : 15. Answer
• George William Russell : 150. On Behalf Of Some Irishmen Not Followers Of Tradition
• George William Russell : 151. An Irish Face
• George William Russell : 152. In Connemara
• George William Russell : 153. Twilight By The Cabin
• George William Russell : 154. Kinship

Previous 10 Poems

• George William Russell : 144. On A Hillside
• George William Russell : 143. A Call Of The Sidhe
• George William Russell : 142. The Robing Of The King
• George William Russell : 141. Glory And Shadow
• George William Russell : 140. The Feast Of Age
• George William Russell : 14. Winter
• George William Russell : 139. The Fountain Of Shadowy Beauty
• George William Russell : 138. A New Theme
• George William Russell : 137. The Well Of All-healing
• George William Russell : 136. Recollection