Finally

i finally got around to hunting down this poem from The Dead. it is quite haunting and apropos for that book, dry as it was. but i suppose in the end all vows will be broken. by time, death, circumstance... do not make a promise you cannot keep, right?



BROKEN VOWS 8TH Century Irish
It is late last night; the dog was speaking of you
It is you are the lonely bird, throughout the wood
And that you may be without a mate until you find me
You promised me and you said a lie to me
That you would be before me where the sheep are flocked
I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you
And I found nothing there but a bleating lamb
You promised me a thing that is not possible
My mother told me not to be talking to you
Today, tomorrow or on Sunday
It was a bad time she took for telling me that
It was, shutting the door after the house was robbed
You have taken he east from me
You have taken the west from me
You have taken what is before me and what is behind me
And my fear is great
You have taken God from me