Dirge for Aoine and other poems by Nora Chesson [i.e. Nora Hopper] |
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THE FAIRY FIDDLER
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 | Dirge for Aoine and other poems |  |
xix
THE FAIRY FIDDLER
(To Caroline Augusta Hopper)
'Tis I go fiddling, fiddling,
By weedy ways forlorn;
I make the blackbird's music
Ere in his breast 'tis born:
The sleeping larks I waken
'Twixt the midnight and the morn.
By weedy ways forlorn;
I make the blackbird's music
Ere in his breast 'tis born:
The sleeping larks I waken
'Twixt the midnight and the morn.
No man alive has seen me,
But women hear me play
Sometimes at door or window,
Fiddling the souls away,—
The child's soul and the colleen's
Out of the covering clay.
But women hear me play
Sometimes at door or window,
Fiddling the souls away,—
The child's soul and the colleen's
Out of the covering clay.
None of my fairy kinsmen
Makes music with me now:
Alone the raths I wander
Or ride the whitethorn bough,
But the wild swans they know me
And the horse that draws the plough.
Makes music with me now:
Alone the raths I wander
Or ride the whitethorn bough,
But the wild swans they know me
And the horse that draws the plough.
| Dirge for Aoine and other poems | |