Rising and falling, falling and rising with soft sounds everywhere,
There is no rest for the soul that has seen the wild eyes of Maeve.
I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill
And I know that the deed that is in my heart is her deed;
And my soul is blown about by the wild winds of her will,
For always the living must follow whither the dead would lead—
I have seen Maeve of the Battles wandering over the hill.
RE-INCARNATION
The darkness draws me, kindly angels weep