Old memories: A dying boy, with handsome face Upturned upon a beaten place; A sacred yew-tree on a strand; A woman that held in steady hand In all the happiness of her youth Before her man had broken troth, A burning wisp to light the door; And many a round or crescent more; Dead men and women. Memories Have pulled my head upon my knees. WOMAN of the SIDHE Could you that have loved many a woman That did not reach beyond the human, Lacking a day to be complete, Love one that though her heart can beat, Lacks it but by an hour or so. GHOST of CUCHULAIN I know you now for long ago I met you on the mountain side, Beside a well that seemed long dry, Beside old thorns where the hawk flew. I held out arms and hands but you, That now seem friendly, fled away Half woman and half bird of prey. WOMAN of the SIDHE Hold out your arms and hands again You were not so dumbfounded when I was that bird of prey and yet I am all woman now. GHOST of CUCHULAIN I am not The young and passionate man I was And though that brilliant light surpass All crescent forms, my memories Weigh down my hands, abash my eyes. WOMAN of the SIDHE Then kiss my mouth. Though memory Be beauty's bitterest enemy I have no dread for at my kiss Memory on the moment vanishes: Nothing but beauty can remain. GHOST of CUCHULAIN And shall I never know again Intricacies of blind remorse? WOMAN of the SIDHE Time shall seem to stay his course, For when your mouth and my mouth meet All my round shall be complete Imagining all its circles run; And there shall be oblivion Even to quench Cuchulain's drouth, Even to still that heart. GHOST of CUCHULAIN Your mouth. (They are about to kiss, he turns away) O Emer, Emer. WOMAN of the SIDHE So then it is she Made you impure with memory. GHOST of CUCHULAIN Still in that dream I see you stand, A burning wisp in your right hand, To wait my coming to the house, As when our parents married us. WOMAN of the SIDHE Being among the dead you love her That valued every slut above her While you still lived. GHOST of CUCHULAIN O my lost Emer. WOMAN of the SIDHE And there is not a loose-tongued schemer But could draw you if not dead, From her table and her bed. How could you be fit to wive With flesh and blood, being born to live Where no one speaks of broken troth For all have washed out of their eyes Wind blown dirt of their memories To improve their sight? GHOST of CUCHULAIN Your mouth, your mouth. (Their lips approach but Cuchulain turns away as Emer speaks.) EMER