THE DEDICATION TO A BOOK OF STORIES SELECTED FROM THE IRISH NOVELISTS
There was a green branch hung with many a bell
When her own people ruled in wave-worn Eire;
And from its murmuring greenness, calm of faery,
A Druid kindness, on all hearers fell.
It charmed away the merchant from his guile,
And turned the farmer’s memory from his cattle,
And hushed in sleep the roaring ranks of battle,
For all who heard it dreamed a little while.
Ah, Exiles, wandering over many seas,