A MAN that had six mortal wounds, a man <br />Violent and famous, strode among the dead; <br />Eyes stared out of the branches and were gone. <br /> <br />Then certain Shrouds that muttered head to head <br />Came and were gone. He leant upon a tree <br />As though to meditate on wounds and blood. <br /> <br />A Shroud that seemed to have authority <br />Among those bird-like things came, and let fall <br />A bundle of linen. Shrouds by two and thrce <br /> <br />Came creeping up because the man was still. <br />And thereupon that linen-carrier said: <br />'Your life can grow much sweeter if you will <br /> <br />'Obey our ancient rule and make a shroud; <br />Mainly because of what we only know <br />The rattle of those arms makes us afraid. <br /> <br />'We thread the needles' eyes, and all we do <br />All must together do.' That done, the man <br />Took up the nearest and began to sew. <br /> <br />'Now must we sing and sing the best we can, <br />But first you must be told our character: <br />Convicted cowards all, by kindred slain <br /> <br />'Or driven from home and left to die in fear.' <br />They sang, but had nor human tunes nor words, <br />Though all was done in common as before; <br /> <br />They had changed their thtoats and had the throats of birds.<br /><br />William Butler Yeats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cuchulain-comforted/
