POETRY.
THE BANSHEE.
A VOICE came crying to me window In the wind and the rain, Like the voice of an old, old woman Who was crying in pain: And I knew that Michael (God rest him !) Would never spake again.
I knew, but I didn't let on I knew, For fear the childhern had heard: I had it ready on. me tongue to say,
It was only a bird—
But the voice cried mighty loud and close, And not one of the childhern stirred.
Not one of the childhern moved in dheir sleep —But the red fire shone ;
And out dhere in the wet blue of the night The voice went on—
It was sad with the sorrows that are to come And the griefs that are gone.
For the heart of the creature was full of love She was longing to spake.
God knows how far she had come in the dark,
And all for my sake—
But her tongue (God help her !) was a heathen thing, Like the cry of a kittiwake.
I knew she had passed by the ship As it rose and fell ; And looked at me Michael walking the deck, And him alive and well; And seen the body of him sewn in a sail And sunk in the swell : And the creature (God help her !) Was sorry, and trying to tell.
The trouble she must have seen!
It was all in her cry: The pain of the unborn lives And the lives gone by : And she keened for me Michael; and not one of his fatherless childhern
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