OURSELVES ALONE[1]
One morning, when dreaming in deep meditation,
I met a sweet colleen a-making her moan.
With sighing and sobbing she cried and lamented;
“Oh, where is my lost one, and where has he flown?
“My house it is small, and my field is but little,
Yet round flew my wheel as I sat in the sun,
He crossed the deep sea and went forth for my battle:
Oh, has he proved faithless—the fight is not won?”
And then I said: “Kathleen, ah! do you remember
When you were a queen, and your castles were strong,
- ↑ Sinn Fein Amhain.
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