Where Lagan stream sings lullaby / There blows a lily fair; / The twilight gleam is in her eye, / The night is on her hair. / And like a lovesick lenanshee, / She hath my heart in thrall; / Nor life I owe, nor liberty, / For love is lord of all...
Reflections on the tapestry of Story and Language
Where Lagan stream sings lullaby / There blows a lily fair; / The twilight gleam is in her eye, / The night is on her hair. / And like a lovesick lenanshee, / She hath my heart in thrall; / Nor life I owe, nor liberty, / For love is lord of all...