Where Lagan streams sing lullabies, there blows a lilly fair And twilight gleam is in her eyes, the night is on her hair And like a love-sick leanan sidhe she has my heart in thrall No life have I, no liberty, for love is lord of all And often when the beetle's horn has lulled the eve asleep I stale into her shieling lorn and through her doorway creep There on the cricket's singing stone she makes the bogwood fire And sings in sweet and undertone the song of heart's desire