Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/268

CEOL SIDHE^[1]

When May is here, and every morn
Is dappled with pied bells,
And dewdrops glance along the thorn
And wings flash in the dells,
I take my pipe and play a tune
Of dreams, a whispered melody,
For feet that dance beneath the moon
In fairy jollity.

And when the pastoral hills are grey
And the dim stars are spread,
A scamper fills the grass like play

Of feet where fairies tread.

1. Fairy music.

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