Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/89



turned she in her narrow bed, His tears disturbed her rest; She kissed the little babe that lay So still upon her breast.

“Dream well,” she said, “my daughter dear, Since I must leave you lone; Three times your father's piteous voice Did make a grievous moan;

“Three times your father's bitter cry Did wake me from my sleep, So must I go and comfort him And bid him not to weep.”

Her fingers chill she did unlace From off her breast so white; “Poor hands,” quoth she, “oft for his sake You toiled a weary night”

She stepped out from her grave so green Upon her feet so slim, “Oft were you wounded on the road Where you did follow him.”

Lone went she up the long boreen Wherein her love did dwell. And there she met a nut-brown maid She once did love full well.