Poems (May)/Kathleen
KATHLEEN.
What moans with the east wind? Ah, listen, Aileen! Through the dull mist and rain I hear it complain.— 'Tis only the shriek of the curlew, Kathleen!
I look to the sea-side, The pale shore, Aileen! There is something adrift That the waves toss and lift— A boat, tempest-torn from its moorings, Kathleen!
Under the day-dawn She steals forth, Aileen. What lies nigh the door, By the waves sent ashore? Oh deep be thy slumbers this morning, Kathleen!