Long ago, when snared like thee,
By the Shee, my harp and I
O'er them wove the slumber spell,
Warbling well its lullaby.
Till with dreamy smiles they sank,
Rank on rank, before the strain,
And I rose up from out the rath,
And found my path to earth again.
Little sister to my woe,
Hid below among the Shee,
List and learn the magic tune,
That it full soon may succor thee.
-Alfred Percival Graves-