Three stared wild-eyed as at the dead,
The fourth rose up; no word she said—
She motioned to me with her head.
She led me on along the path
To where it crossed a low brown rath,
Then paused, and spake one word—“Soggarth!”
“Soggarth!” The word was like a spell,
Sainted and sweet like some church bell,
Lifting the soul to heaven from hell!
Rough were the stones and cold the ground,