The Banshee

THE Banshee cries on the rising wind

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

The dead to free and the quick to bind —

( Close fast the shutter and draw the blind! )

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

Why are you paler my dearest dear?

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

‘ Tis but the wind in the elm tree near —

( Acushla, hush! lest the Banshee hear! )

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

See, how the crackling fire up-springs,

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

Up and up on its flame-red wings;

Hark, how the cheerful kettle sings!

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

Core of my heart! How cold your lips!

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

White as the spray the wild wind whips,

Still as your icy finger tips!

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

On the rising wind the Banshee cries —

“O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!”

I kiss your hair. I kiss your eyes —

The kettle is dumb; the red flame dies!

“Ochone! Ochone! Ochone!”