Nechtan

When Bran and his more worldly-wise companions

Were settling happily in the idyll

Of the Island of Women, I spoilt it

For them - and for me - by being homesick

For Ireland. But then we found there was No longer any welcome for us there.

Maybe out of resentment for the months

We'd spent living in Love's contentedness,

They wouldn't let us land, so now we're fated

To sail for ever in the middle seas, outcast

Alike from the one shore and the other.