The Sweet Little Cuckoo

'Tis in the night I suffer woe,
Within my heart the shadows go,
Since I fell in love with my fair foe —
The faultless, high-bred maiden.
O God, that fate, in an hour of ruth,
Would bear us both to the Land of Youth,

Then days of delight would dawn in sooth!
Friends and foes should stay behind,
Suitors and sorrows go in the wind,
And some cold isle be laid in.
The voice of birds from blossomed tree
Should give us musical minstrelsie,

How sweet that these should neighbours be
With gladness every morrow!
For now I am worn with weary pain,
A full long year I've borne in vain,
My heart's hot fire still burns amain.
O Lord of life, look down, I pray,

Or soon I must lie in the quiet clay,
My head brought low with sorrow.
My aged sire, my sister dear,
In woe they walk, they live in fear
My strength is going, the end draws near —
'Tis gone the manly bearing;

Through the sinless cause — my love snow-white;
More fair her brow than silver bright,
Her lovely face would fill with light
The darkest dell of the misty South,
And sweeter a kiss from her little mouth
Than all the honey of Erinn!