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| The Hosting of the Sidhe | [1] |
| The Everlasting Voices | [3] |
| The Moods | [4] |
| Aedh tells of the Rose in his Heart | [5] |
| The Host of the Air | [7] |
| Breasal the Fisherman | [10] |
| A Cradle Song | [11] |
| Into the Twilight | [13] |
| The Song of Wandering Aengus | [15] |
| The Song of the old Mother | [17] |
| The Fiddler of Dooney | [18] |
| The Heart of the Woman | [20] |
| Aedh Laments the Loss of Love | [21] |
| Mongan laments the Change that has come upon him and his Beloved | [22] |
| Michael Robartes bids his Beloved be at Peace | [24] |
| Hanrahan reproves the Curlew | [26] |
| Michael Robartes remembers forgotten Beauty | [27] |
| A Poet to his Beloved | [29] |
| Aedh gives his Beloved certain Rhymes | [30] |
| To my Heart, bidding it have no Fear | [31] |
| The Cap and Bells | [32] |
| The Valley of the Black Pig | [35] |
| Michael Robartes asks Forgiveness because of his many Moods | [37] |
| Aedh tells of a Valley full of Lovers | [40] |
| Aedh tells of the perfect Beauty | [42] |
| Aedh hears the Cry of the Sedge | [43] |
| Aedh thinks of those who have spoken Evil of his Beloved | [44] |
| The Blessed | [45] |
| The Secret Rose | [47] |
| Hanrahan laments because of his Wanderings | [51] |
| The Travail of Passion | [52] |
| The Poet pleads with his Friend for old Friends | [54] |
| Hanrahan speaks to the Lovers of his Songs in coming Days | [55] |
| Aedh pleads with the Elemental Powers | [57] |
| Aedh wishes his Beloved were Dead | [59] |
| Aedh wishes for the Cloths of Heaven | [60] |
| Mongan thinks of his past Greatness | [61] |
| Notes | [65] |
THE HOSTING OF THE SIDHE
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,
Our arms are waving, our lips are apart;
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caolte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.
THE EVERLASTING VOICES
O sweet everlasting Voices be still;
Go to the guards of the heavenly fold
And bid them wander obeying your will
Flame under flame, till Time be no more;
Have you not heard that our hearts are old,
That you call in birds, in wind on the hill,
In shaken boughs, in tide on the shore?
O sweet everlasting Voices be still.