Kathleen Ni-Houlihan

As I came down from the hill of Aileach, When spring sang in the air, I heard the silken voice of summer Call from the cold earth there. As I came down from the hill of Aileach, I heard low laughter sweet. There I came on a fair young maiden Dancing on snow-pale feet. Oh, white she was as the mist of morning, All lovely in her glee. Oh, glad she was as the mating thrushes Trilling on greenwood tree. ‘What hope can laugh through the long years grieving, What joy that cannot die, What secret sings to your feet in dancing?’ I cried as she passed by. On her smiling mouth she laid her finger And left me lone behind, As she went up the dark hill of Aileach Where the spring sang in the wind. Oh, glad she was whom I once thought weary. Young—and I thought youth gone. As she went up the green hill of Aileach, Kathleen ni-Houlihan.