My hope and my love,
we will go for a while into the wood,
scattering the dew,
where we will see the trout,
we will see the blackbird on its nest;
the deer and the buck calling,
the little bird that is sweetest
singing on the branches;
the cuckoo on the top of the fresh green;
and death will never come near us
for ever in the sweet wood.

Credits

Part of the Coole Park Poetry Series, produced with Druid and shot at Coole Park as part of DruidGregory.

This poem is in the public domain. Translated from the Irish by Lady Gregory in The Kiltartan Poetry Book, The Knickerbocker Press, 1919.