Yeats' FAIRY AND FOLK TALES OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY

SONG OF THE GHOST

Alfred Percival Graves

When all were dreaming
  But Pastheen Power,
A light came streaming
  Beneath her bower:
A heavy foot
  At her door delayed,
A heavy hand
  On the latch was laid.

"Now who dare venture,
  At this dark hour,
Unbid to enter
  My maiden bower?"
"Dear Pastheen, open
  The door to me,
And your true lover
  You'll surely see."

"My own true lover,
  So tall and brave,
Lives exiled over
  The angry wave."
"Your true love's body
  Lies on the bier,
His faithful spirit
  Is with you here."

"His look was cheerful,
  His voice was gay;
Your speech is fearful,
  Your face is grey;
And sad and sunken
  Your eye of blue,
But Patrick, Patrick,
  Alas! 'tis you!"

Ere dawn was breaking
  She heard below
The two cocks shaking
  Their wings to crow.
"Oh, hush you, hush you,
  Both red and grey,
Or will you hurry
  My love away.

"Oh, hush your crowing,
  Both grey and red,
Or he'll be going
  To join the dead;
Or, cease from calling
  His ghost to the mould,
And I'll come crowning
  Your combs with gold."

When all were dreaming
  But Pastheen Power,
A light went streaming
  From out her bower,
And on the morrow,
  When they awoke,
They knew that sorrow
  Her heart had broke.

Aran Islanders, J. Synge [1898] (public domain photograph)