Page:The Sad Years.djvu/73



NE morning, when dreaming in deep meditation, I met a sweet colleen a-making her moan. With sighing and sobbing she cried and lamented: “Oh where is my lost one, and where has he flown?”

My house it is small, and my field is but little, Yet round flew my wheel as I sat in the sun. He crossed the deep sea and went forth for my battle: Oh, has he proved faithless—the fight is not won?

And then I said: “Kathleen, ah! do you remember When you were a queen, and your castles were strong, You cried for the love of a cold-hearted stranger, And in your fair island you planted the wrong?”

“And oh,” I cried, “Kathleen, I once heard you weeping And sighing and sobbing and making your moan. You sang of a lost one, a dear one, a false one— ‘Oh, gone is my blackbird, and where has he flown?’ [65]