"I did," said Padraig. "That is, I said old Granny Dooley told it to me
when I was small. I've hid in the bushes to watch for the Cluricaune
myself."


CAP O'RUSHES

Where the downward-swaying branches
Shiver, quiver in the sun,
And with low persistent murmur
The hidden waters run,
Far from bell and book and candle
With their grisly ban,
In the tangle of the rushes
Sits the great god Pan.

Oh, the unworn joy of living
Is not far to find,--
Leave the bell and book and candle
Of the world behind,
In your coracle slow drifting,
Without haste or plan,
You shall catch the wordless music
Of the great god Pan.

You shall wear the cap of rushes,
And shall hear that day
All the wild duck and the heron
And the curlew say.
You shall taste the wild bees' honey