Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/189

 NOCTURNE

rim of the moon

Is over the corn.

The beetle's drone

Is above the thorn.

Grey days come soon

And I am alone;

Can you hear my moan

Where you rest, Aroon?

When the wild tree bore

The deep blue cherry,

In night's deep hall

Our love kissed merry. 183