Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, dear to me, dear and sweet, In dreams I am hearing the sound of your little running feet— The sound of your running feet that like the sea-hoofs beat A music by day an' night, Eilidh, on the sands of my heart, my Sweet! Eilidh, blue i' the eyes, flower-sweet as children are, And white as the canna that blows with the hill-breast wind afar, Whose is the light in thine eyes—the light of a star?—a star That sitteth supreme where the starry lights of heaven a glory are! Eilidh, Eilidh, Eilidh, put off your wee hands from the heart o' me, It is pain they are making there, where no more pain should be: For little running feet, an' wee white hands, an' croodlin' as of the sea, Bring tears to my eyes, Eilidh, tears, tears, out of the heart o' me— Mo-lennav-a-chree, Mo-lennav-a-chree! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PICTURES OF MEMORY by ALICE CARY THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN by RUDYARD KIPLING FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT by JOHN HENRY NEWMAN SPRING [IN WAR-TIME] by HENRY TIMROD WRITTEN IN JUICE OF LEMON by ABRAHAM COWLEY |