The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing ‘twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair’
Caolte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.
€2.99
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भाषा अंग्रेज़ी ● स्वरूप EPUB ● पेज 116 ● ISBN 9783748117711 ● फाइल का आकार 0.4 MB ● प्रकाशक Books on Demand ● प्रकाशित 2018 ● संस्करण 1 ● डाउनलोड करने योग्य 24 महीने ● मुद्रा EUR ● आईडी 7417853 ● कॉपी सुरक्षा सामाजिक DRM
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