University of Virginia Library


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MO-LENNAV-A-CHREE

Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, dear to me, dear and sweet,
In dreams I am hearing the sound of your little running feet—
The sound of your running feet that like the sea-hoofs beat
A music by day an' night, Eilidh, on the sands of my heart, my Sweet!
Eilidh, blue i' the eyes, flower-sweet as children are,
And white as the canna that blows with the hill-breast wind afar,
Whose is the light in thine eyes—the light of a star?—a star
That sitteth supreme where the starry lights of heaven a glory are!
Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, put off your wee hands from the heart o' me,
It is pain they are making there, where no more pain should be:

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For little running feet, an' wee white hands, an' croodlin' as of the sea,
Bring tears to my eyes, Eilidh, tears, tears, out of the heart o' me—
Mo-lennav-a-chree,
Mo-lennav-a-chree!