Liadain and Curithir

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When thou art hidden fears throng into my heart:

I am as one who has found a treasure of gold

Whom the stars watch

And the winds threaten

And swords wait in the dark.

Or can the dream break, Curithir, into the cold dawn?

Do not even the angels tremble gazing on us?

For only within God's Dún such joy can live.

Come let us dream, love, that we sail to the west

And in enchanted islands are free of the sun

And the cold blind eyes of the years that pass unheeding sorrow.

O by the sweetness of love and joy like the piercing of spears

I have known the vain life that dies beaten back to the sod,

And the moan of all impotent things cries in my heart;

For that which can wither the budding trees can wither love.

O Curithir hast thou bidden the birds to sing of thee?

They have awoken me to the grey sweet skies

And the out-breathed light stealing over the stars.

There is no bird whose song is not of thy love

No laughter of sudden dawn winds whose joy thou art not –

O that the world could know thou lovest me, Curithir!

- Moireen Fox

An hour of love, all-too-fleeting, set against the tumble and crash of the somber seaside: honeysuckle, ivy, white moss, and salty spray.