I steal unto her shilling low
There on the cricket's singing stone
When twilight gleam is in her eyes
The night is on her hair
She stirs the bog wood fire
With love is Lord of all
Is from her heart within
The song of heart's desire
Her welcome like her love for me
And sometimes when the beetles horn
And hums in soft, sweet undertones
Her warm kiss is felicity
Hath lulled the eve to sleep
And like a love sick, lenanshee
And through her dooreen peep
She hath my heart in thrall
No life have I, no liberty
