Edain came out of Midhir's hill, and lay br Beside young Aengus in his tower of glass, br Where time is drowned in odour-laden winds br And Druid moons, and murmuring of boughs, br And sleepy boughs, and boughs where apples made br Of opal and ruhy and pale chrysolite br Awake unsleeping fires; and wove seven strings, br Sweet with all music, out of his long hair, br Because her hands had been made wild by love. br When Midhir's wife had changed her to a fly, br He made a harp with Druid apple-wood br That she among her winds might know he wept; br And from that hour he has watched over none br But faithful lovers.