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The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold,
Bm Bm/A G D AAnd clap their hands together, and half close their eyes,
Bm Bm/A C Em AFor they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies,
Bm Bm/A G F# G F#With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold
I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast,
And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me,
Desolate wind that cry over the wandering sea;
Desolate wind that hover in the flaming West;
Desolate wind that beats the doors of Heaven, and beat
The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost;
O heart that winds have shaken, the unappeasable host
Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.
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