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The Wind Among The Reeds

Mavrone, Mavrone! the wind among the reeds.
It calls and cries, and will not let me be
And all its cry is of forgotten deeds
When men were loved of all the Daoine-Sidhe.

O Shee that have forgotten how to love,
And Shee that have forgotten how to hate,
Asleep 'neath quicken boughs that no winds move,
Come back to us ere yet it be too late.

Pipe to us once again, lest we forget
What piping means, till all the Silver Spears
Be wild with gusty music, such as met
Carolan once, amid the dusty years.

Dance in your rings again: the yellow weeds
You used to ride so far, mount as of old --
Play hide-and-seek with winds among the reeds,
And pay your scores again with fairy gold.

- Nora Hopper -