An Irish pond she tried to dry
But when you'd leave the walls
Or keep their queen
A veil id likely give for you
To be with him
As his ghost is due

Battle with her earthly pry
Tilling heavens
And rarely cried
Oh erie beckon not upon my son this day

He's as yours
Searched by Spanish doors

Yearning distant mind
Spill from every hide
Benign doubts travel far
Least mourned upon
How is deferred wars hand drawing lettered crack over surrender

I say in grieving myself
The barge is worn
The fortress limber
Yet to the statesman
Another bounty of confusion

We are families of different letters
And I seek the chores

I shall board with Padraig
And the O'tuamas requests again