text: She that but little patience knew,
  From childhood on, had now so much
  A grey gull lost its fear and flew
  Down to her cell and there alit,
  And there endured her fingers' touch
  And from her fingers ate its bit.
  
  Did she in touching that lone wing
  Recall the years before her mind
  Became a bitter, an abstract thing,
  Her thought some popular enmity:
  Blind and leader of the blind
  Drinking the foul ditch where they lie?
  
  When long ago I saw her ride
  Under Ben Bulben to the meet,
  The beauty of her country-side
  With all youth's lonely wildness stirred,
  She seemed to have grown clean and sweet
  Like any rock-bred, sea-borne bird:
  
  Sea-borne, or balanced in the air
  When first it sprang out of the nest
  Upon some lofty rock to stare
  Upon the cloudy canopy,
  While under its storm-beaten breast
  Cried out the hollows of the sea.