But why do they still hover
overhead?
Yeats
there!
They come!
Gull, gannet, or diver,
But with a man's head, or a fair woman's.
They hover over the masthead awhile
To wait their friends, but when their friends have come
They'll fly upon that secret way of theirs,
One--and one--a couple--five together.
And now they all wheel suddenly and fly
To the other side, and higher in the air,
They've gone up thither, friend's run up by friend;
They've gone to their beloved ones in the air,
In the waste of the high air, that they may wander
Among the windy meadows of the dawn.
But why are they still waiting? Why are they
Circling and circling over the masthead?
Ah! now they all look down--they'll speak of me
What the ever-living put into their minds,
And of that shadowless unearthly woman
At the world's end. I hear the message now.
But it's all mystery. There's one that cries,
'From love and hate. ' Before the sentence ends
Another breaks upon it with a cry,
'From love and death and out of sleep and waking. '
And with the cry another cry is mixed,
'What can we do, being shadows? ' All mystery,
And I am drunken with a dizzy light.
But why do they still hover overhead?
Why are you circling there? Why do you linger?
Why do you not run to your desire?
Now that you have happy winged bodies.
Being too busy in the air, and the high air,
They cannot hear my voice. But why that circling?
[_The _Sailors_ have returned, DECTORA is with them.
She is dressed in pale green, with copper ornaments on
her dress, and has a copper crown upon her head. Her
hair is dull red. _
_Forgael_ [_turning and seeing her_].
Why are you standing with your eyes upon me?
You are not the world's core. O no, no, no!
That cannot be the meaning of the birds.
You are not its core.
But with a man's head, or a fair woman's.
They hover over the masthead awhile
To wait their friends, but when their friends have come
They'll fly upon that secret way of theirs,
One--and one--a couple--five together.
And now they all wheel suddenly and fly
To the other side, and higher in the air,
They've gone up thither, friend's run up by friend;
They've gone to their beloved ones in the air,
In the waste of the high air, that they may wander
Among the windy meadows of the dawn.
But why are they still waiting? Why are they
Circling and circling over the masthead?
Ah! now they all look down--they'll speak of me
What the ever-living put into their minds,
And of that shadowless unearthly woman
At the world's end. I hear the message now.
But it's all mystery. There's one that cries,
'From love and hate. ' Before the sentence ends
Another breaks upon it with a cry,
'From love and death and out of sleep and waking. '
And with the cry another cry is mixed,
'What can we do, being shadows? ' All mystery,
And I am drunken with a dizzy light.
But why do they still hover overhead?
Why are you circling there? Why do you linger?
Why do you not run to your desire?
Now that you have happy winged bodies.
Being too busy in the air, and the high air,
They cannot hear my voice. But why that circling?
[_The _Sailors_ have returned, DECTORA is with them.
She is dressed in pale green, with copper ornaments on
her dress, and has a copper crown upon her head. Her
hair is dull red. _
_Forgael_ [_turning and seeing her_].
Why are you standing with your eyes upon me?
You are not the world's core. O no, no, no!
That cannot be the meaning of the birds.
You are not its core.
