A Cradle Song

The Danann children laugh in cradles of wrought gold

And clap their hands together and half close their eyes

For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies

With heavy whitening wings and a heart fallen cold:

I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast

And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me

Desolate winds that cry over the wandering sea

Desolate winds that hover in the flaming West

Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven and beat

The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost

O heart the winds have shaken the unappeasable host