THE KEEN.

[An Caoine.]

BY CROFTON CROKER.

`- Proofing in Progress -`

Maidens, sing no more in gladness
  To your merry spinning-wheels,
Join the keener's voice of sadness--
  Feel for what a mother feels!

See the space within my dwelling--
  'Tis the cold, blank space of death;
'Twas the Banshee's voice came swelling
  slowly o'er the midnight heath.

Keeners, let your song not falter--
  He was as the hawthorn fair
Lowly at the Virgin's altar
  Will his mother kneel in prayer.

Prayer is good to calm the spirit,
  When the keen is sweetly sung:
Death, though mortal flesh inherit,
  Why should age lament the young?

'Twas the Banshee's lonely wailing;--
  Well I knew the voice of death,
On the night-wind slowly sailing
  O'er the bleak and gloomy heath!

Next: The Saga of King Olaf and his Dog

Denis Florence MacCarthy Homepage

MacCarthy, Denis Florence (1817-1882), ed. The Book of Irish Ballads. Dublin: James Duffy, 1869.

The above published source is public domain under the terms of
Title 17, United States Code, Section 304(b).
The transcriber does not claim to know the copyright status of this publication outside of the United States.

Published in 1999 by Dennis McCarthy
No Rights Reserved! I release this file to the public domain.
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The Book of Irish Ballads