Where lagan stream sings lullaby
there grows a lily fair
the twilight gleam is in her eye
the night is on her hair
and like a lovesick leannsidhe
she hath my heart enthrall
no life i own or liberty
for love is lord of all
And often when the beetle's tone
has lulled the eve to sleep
i creep down to her sheeling low
and through the door i peep
there on the cricket's singing stone
she piles the bogwood fire
and sings in love's sweet undertones
a song of heart's desire

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS