Here you will find thePoemLegendof poet Padraic Colum
THERE is an hour, they say, On which your dream has power: Then all you wish for comes, As comes the lost field-bird Down to the island-lights; There is an hour, they say, That's woven with your wish: In dawn, or dayli? gone, In mirk-dark, or at noon, In hush or hum of day, May be that secret hour. A herd-boy in the rain Who looked o'er stony fields; A young man in a street, When fife and drum went by, Making the sunlight shrill; A girl in a lane, When the long June twilight Made friendly far-off things, Had watch upon the hour: The dooms they met are in The song my grand-dam sings.
