<h3 id="Fairy_Singing">Fairy Singing</h3>
<p>SHE was my love and the pulse of my heart;<br/>
Lovely she was as the flowers that start<br/>
Straight to the sun from the earth’s tender breast,<br/>
Sweet as the wind blowing out of the west—<br/>
Elana, Elana, my strong one, my white one,<br/>
Soft be the wind blowing over your rest!</p>
<p><i> She crept to my side<br/>
In the cold mist of morning.<br/>
“O wirra” she cried,<br/>
“’Tis farewell now, mavourneen!<br/>
When the crescent moon hung<br/>
Like a scythe in the sky,<br/>
I heard in the silence<br/>
The Little Folks cry.</i></p>
<p><i> “’Twas like a low sighing,<br/>
A sobbing, a singing;<br/>
It came from the west,<br/>
Where the low moon was swinging:<br/>
‘Elana, Elana’<br/>
Was all of their crying.<br/>
Mavrone! I must go—<br/>
To refuse them, I dare not.<br/>
Alone I must go;<br/>
They have called and they care not—<br/>
Naught do they care that they call me apart<br/><!-- Page 122 -->
From the warmth and the light and the love of your heart.<br/>
Hark! How their singing<br/>
Comes winging, comes winging,<br/>
Through your close arms, beloved,<br/>
Straight to my heart!”</i></p>
<p>White grew her face as the thorn’s tender bloom,<br/>
White as the mist from the valley of doom!<br/>
Swift was her going—her head on my breast<br/>
Drooped like a flower that winter has pressed—<br/>
Elana, Elana! My strong one, my white one!<br/>
Empty the arms that your beauty had blessed.</p>
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