“Where fairy men and fairy women dwell, And Time is nothing, Loveliness is all, A damsel stood beside the spring, who made, The splendour of the sunlight seem as shadow. In her one person she had caught the grace, And beauty of the land and sea, the foxglove blown in early spring upon the mountain slope, The foam that flies from off the wintry wave beating in anger on the Irish shore.”

N.J. O’ Conor, Songs of the Celtic Past