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Poem	THEY tell me that the earth is still the same Although the Red Branch now is but a name, That yonder peasant lifting up his eyes Can see the marvel of the morning rise, The wonder Deirdre gazed on when she came. I cannot think the hearts that beat so high Had not a lordlier palace roof of sky, And that the earth on which the heroes trod Seemed not to live beneath them like a god Who loved them and could answer to their cry. Who said the sun will shine with equal face Alike upon the noble and the base? The mighty only to the mighty seems; The world that loomed through proud and golden dreams Has dropped behind this world and left no trace. When that the proud and golden race passed by, This cold paternal majesty on high, This unresponsive earth beneath the feet, Replaced the dear brown breasts that were so sweet, The face of brooding love within the sky. How could a beggar wear the kingly crown, Or those who weakly laid the sceptre down, Walk ’mid the awful beauty God had made For those whose hearts were proud and unafraid, Careless if on His face were smile or frown?
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