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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 529 |
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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. |
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THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE
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WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; |
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