our four-and-twenty elders, describe it thus: ‘An opinion

And the shadows eaten the moon.

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,

TO SOME I HAVE TALKED WITH BY THE FIRE

WHILE I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes,

My heart would brim with dreams about the times

When we bent down above the fading coals

And talked of the dark folk who live in souls

Of passionate men, like bats in the dead trees;