How they swirled under the brightening moon,
That eve thirty years past, as we two walked
Amid the thickening trees whose silent swoon
Was broken by the beat of wings which talked
Of wonders yet to come; of an enchanted dawn
Breathing our names on soft singing bats' wings
Swishing softly the syllables "Sarah" and "Seán"
For our ears alone; through to the next morn ...