Baby was lonely with mother away Reaping the yellow corn all the long day. Now the cows have come home, and the clouds they lie deep On the crags of Slievemore like wool of the sheep. Hush, little one; the turf burns bright, And the Good People bring you sweet dreams tonight. See, a fairy of fortune is waiting for thee: He sits on the hearth with a hand on each knee; On his thumb is a ring as varied in hue As sunlight entrapped in a bright drop of dew. He can point out the place where the dark mountains hold Their treasures of silver, of copper, and gold. His hair is bog-cotton, his eyes black as sloes; He's a turf-sod in height from his head to his toes; His coat it is dyed in the fuchsia's soft red, And he wears a wee cap on the top of his head. He has two little shoes with buckles so bright. And he dances by hidden streams all through the night. Hush, where the bright waves laugh and moan, The mermaid of Erris is sitting alone; She is singing a song so wild and loud To men buried with never a candle or shroud. Hush, little one, if you hear that sound, The ocean will be thy burying-ground. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO KNOW IN REVERIE THE ONLY PHENOMENOLOGY OF THE ABSOLUTE by HAYDEN CARRUTH A DIM DOORWAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A SEA-SHORE GRAVE by SIDNEY LANIER VOICES OF THE AIR by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |