Warmth envelops
Those high up
On the ladder
Of age
Looking down
From up above
On the sands
Of their youth
No forward look there
Just a wistful glance
Down
Over many a long year
Cold the wind blows
Soon to carry aloft
Beyond cognisance
Of mortal man
The spirit of youth
From its greyed-out shell
Flies to
Tir-nan-Og
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