Original Text
1. Mary Hynes |
She is the sky of the sun!
She is the dart of love!
She is the love of my heart!
She is a rune!
She is above the women
of the race of Eve,
as the sun is above the moon!
Lovely and airy
the view from the hill
that looks down from Ballylea!
But no good sight is good,
until you see
the blossom of branches
walking towards you,
airily.
2. Anthony O Daly
Anthony!
Since your limbs were laid out
the stars do not shine!
The fish leap not out
in the waves!
On our meadows the dew
does not fall in the morn,
for O Daly is dead!
Not a flow’r can be born!
Not a word can be said!
Not a tree have a leaf!
On our meadows the dew
does not fall in the morn,
for O Daly is dead!
Anthony!
After you
there is nothing to do!
There is nothing but grief!
3. The Coolin
Come with me, under my coat,
and we will drink our fill
of the milk of the white goat,
or wine if it be thy will.
And we will talk,
until talk is a trouble, too,
out on the side of the hill;
And nothing is left to do,
but an eye to look into an eye,
and a hand in a hand to slip;
and a sigh to answer a sigh;
And a lip to find out a lip!
What if the night be black!
And the air
on the mountain chill!
Where all but the fern is still!
Stay with me, under my coat!
and we will drink our fill
of the milk of the white goat,
out on the side of the hill!
