Sinopsis

The Children of Lir Out upon the sand-dunes thrive the coarse long grasses; Herons standing knee-deep in the brackish pool; Overhead the sunset fire and flame amasses And the moon to eastward rises pale and cool. Rose and green around her, silver-gray and pearly, Chequered with the black rooks flying home to bed; For, to wake at daybreak, birds must couch them early: And the day's a long one since the dawn was red. On the chilly lakelet, in that pleasant gloaming, See the sad swans sailing: they shall have no rest: Never a voice to greet them save the bittern's booming Where the ghostly sallows sway against the West. 'Sister,' saith the gray swan, 'Sister, I am weary,' Turning to the white swan wet, despairing eyes; 'O' she saith, 'my young one! O' she saith, 'my dearie !' Casts her wings about him with a storm of cries.