I see them pass along the grass
With slow and solemn tread:
Aoibheall, their queen, is in between—
A corpse is at their head!
They wander on with faces wan,
And dirges sad as wind.
I know not, but it may be that
The dead’s of human kind.
[THE STORM IS STILL, THE RAIN HATH CEASED]
The storm is still, the rain hath ceased