Where Lagan streams sing lullabies There blows a lily fair The twilight gleam is in her eye The night is on her hair And, like a love sick leannГѓВЎn sГѓВ, She hath my heart in thrall No life have I, no liberty, For love is lord of all And often when the beetle's horn Has lulled the eve to sleep, I steal into her shieling lorn, And through the doorway creep, There on the crickets' singing-stone She makes the bogwood fire, And sings in sweet and undertone, The song of heart's desire
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