Where Lagan streams sing lullabies
There blows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is in her eye
The night is on her hair
And, like a love sick leannГѓВЎn sГѓВ­,
She hath my heart in thrall
No life have I, no liberty,
For love is lord of all

And often when the beetle's horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal into her shieling lorn,
And through the doorway creep,
There on the crickets' singing-stone
She makes the bogwood fire,
And sings in sweet and undertone,
The song of heart's desire




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