The Celtic Twilight

Chapter 47: INTO THE TWILIGHT

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of essays and recorded folk tales that compiles village stories, supernatural encounters, and conversational fragments to examine the persistence of traditional belief and the artist’s impulse to shape memory into art. The pieces alternate anecdote and reflection, presenting storyteller portraits, accounts of faery glamour, and local customs alongside meditations on hope, memory, skepticism, and the craft of narration. The work mixes evocative reporting with reflective commentary, showing how popular imagination, ritual, and doubt inform communal life and how an author arranges scattered remembrances into a coherent aesthetic vision.

INTO THE TWILIGHT

    Out-worn heart, in a time out-worn,
    Come clear of the nets of wrong and right;
    Laugh, heart, again in the gray twilight;
    Sigh, heart, again in the dew of the morn.
    Thy mother Eire is always young,
    Dew ever shining and twilight gray,
    Though hope fall from thee or love decay
    Burning in fires of a slanderous tongue.
    Come, heart, where hill is heaped upon hill,
    For there the mystical brotherhood
    Of hollow wood and the hilly wood
    And the changing moon work out their will.
    And God stands winding his lonely horn;
    And Time and World are ever in flight,
    And love is less kind than the gray twilight,
    And hope is less dear than the dew of the morn.