Drumcliff and Rosses er time, and  t of Ben Bulben, tain in  nigo loose the world.

    t St. Columba ains on one notable day to get near tle sea-dividing, sandy plain, covered  grass, like a green tableclot for Benbulben and Knocknarea Many a poor sailor’d be cast ahe rhyme goes.

    At ttle promontory of sand and rocks and grass: a mournful, ed place. No  s lo to t by mounds of sand, a long cave goes t beautiful parlours and dra, a dog strayed in, and s or ratory  ot. Once elligent and “reading” peasant side, knelt doimid voice, “Are you all rigtle whe dog.

    No ray cottages. One nig all flaming, and ran to, but to a fence, cross-legged, and commenced beating it ick, for  all nig on t ry. In till beating on for to tle later a farmer tried to level t. rouble overtook  useless o th.”

    A fe covered  ty years ago a brig  to ced  midnigting on a stone at t.

    t croo see t tures had gone.

    to t tery. ryands at  tains and t far: because norte square door s sundoian riders ruse Lady, wless Maive cap of Knocknarea.

    t s  a e Lady? S t of ouched him.

    “ ttle stitc join ther.

    One nig eating Mrs. old me a longisory, muc of all I o our oo tell of, for tures, to repeat t any rate tory-tellers do. “In times ravel by to Mullingar to iff and  fatigued I er t. So on till opped to joke er a  it in  come to t  round talking. After a  me, loato stir from to eat. t on took t out and put it on a plate, and told me to eat only t t came off ten, t o