Gold from the edges of the horizon flowing,
A great and golden sea:
The light's spilled out of heaven and flowing, growing
A gold immensity.
The sea-bird now has gotten a golden feather,
Gold are the Hundred Isles,
Gold the white cabin like a cloud at tether
Where the long evening smiles.
The water-bird floats on the golden water,
Golden her wings and crest
As she were Fionnuala, the King's daughter,
Preening a golden breast.
The bog-pools now are fringed with golden lances,
The bog-cotton's aflame;
Gold are the mountains that were purple as pansies,
Since the wild heather came.
Oh, Heaven's o'er-arched with gold, that washing, flooding,
Drenches, with golden rain
The Dark Rose in her splendour, dreaming, brooding,
That she is crowned again.