where lagan streams sing lullabies there blows a lily fair the twilight gleam is in her eye the night is on her hair and like a lovesick lenashee she hath my heart in thrall no life have i no liberty for love is lord of all and often when the beetles horn has lulled the eve to sleep i ll steal into her sheiling lorn and through the doorway creep there on the cricket s singing stone she makes the bogwood fire and sings in sweet and undertone the song of hearts desire