I quit my form
As eventide
Droppeth
Into looming night.
The air is warm,
The waning moon
A spectral shifting
Hazy light.
I am brown hare,
The night in flux.
I am brown hare,
For it's the crux
Of the matter,
How they natter!
The crepuscular!
Tan and muscular
Thighs
Drive me forth
In the chase.
Quick! The race,
Unseen,
Save Oisín
Rides he keen -
He has seen
My course,
I am hoarse,
In my breath.
My leg
Takes a dart.
Oh my heart
Is a-thrumming
And my head is a-drumming,
I slip
Through a portal,
Shift to a mortal,
And lay me down
A-panting.
'Whither goest thou?'
Says Oisín,
A-panting,
Hoarse.
'My dart has stayed thy
Lilting course.
But what before me
Can I say?
A milk-white maiden,
Tresses grey.
A wound upon
Her shapely thigh,
She shakes and trembles,
Heaves and sighs.'
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