Prologue And Epilogue

2

By the creaking gate,
Now my guests are sped,
I ask pardon for
Every word I said;
Some to please a friend,
Some to praise the state—
A tree in the wind—
Now, maybe too late,
To the stars I cry,
Trembling from head to toe,
“From magic we come,
To magic we go.”



Source: O'Connor, Frank; Three Old Brothers and Other Poems; 1936;
London; Thomas Nelson & Sons Ltd.; p.37