Where Lagan streams
Sing lullabies through clouds of lilies fair
The half-light gleam is in his eyes
The night is on his hair
Like a love-sick lenashee
He has my heart to call
No life have I
No liberty
For his love is lord of all
And often when the late birdsong
Has lulled all the world to sleep
I will steal into my lover's arms
Our secrets there to keep
And on the cricket's singing stone
He'll make a drywood fire
And tell me then
Sweet undertones
The song of my heart's desire