O! wind, croon low, and softly play
Upon these sallies slender;
And wake a weeping dirge to-day
Pathetic, sweet and tender,
For brown-haired Maire Og, whose voice
Is music’s sweetest tone,
Loved Maire, who has all my heart,
Will never be my own.
O! sun, put on a misty veil –
Your brightness minds me of her;
Grow dark, blue skies (blue are her eyes)
Ye pain her hapless lover
O! stream, that blithely sang to me
In days of long ago,
A barefoot boy I shared thy joy-
Now share with me my woe.
Be still, O! thrush; O! skylark, hush,
Sing not to-day O! robin;
Ye mind me of her heav’nly voice
Ye set my spirit sobbin’.
O! earth, O! sky, O! everything,
All, all I hear and see –
Ye waken thoughts (I wish they’d sleep)
Sad, bitter thoughts in me.