Deep in the wood's recesses cool I see the fairy dancers glide, In cloth of gold, in gown of green, My lord and lady side by side.
But who has hung from leaf to leaf, From flower to flower, a silken twine-- A cloud of grey that holds the dew In globes of clear enchanted wine.
Or stretches far from branch to branch, From thorn to thorn, in diamond rain, Who caught the cup of crystal pine And hung so fair the shining chain?
'Tis Death, the spider, in his net Who lures the dancers as they glide In cloth of gold, in gown of green, My lord and lady side by side.
Last night a hand pushed on the door And tirled at the pin. I turned my face unto the wall, And could not cry, "Come in!" I dared not cry "Come in!"
Last night a voice wailed round the house And called my name upon, And bitter, bitter did it mourn: "Where is my mother gone? Where is my mother gone?"
From saintly arms I slipped and flew Adown the moon-lit skies, I weary of the paths of Heav'n And flowers of Paradise-- Sweet scents of Paradise!
"For little children prattle there, And whisper all the day Of lovely mothers on the earth, Where once they used to play, Who used with them to play.
"They linger laughing by the door, And wait the threshold on; I have no memory so fair, Where is my mother gone? Where is my mother gone?"
Thrice pushed the hand upon the door And tirled at the pin. I turned my face unto the wall, And could not cry, "Come in!" I dared not cry, "Come in!"
When I shall rise, and full of many fears, Set forth upon my last long journey lone, And leave behind the circling earth to go Amongst the countless stars to seek God's throne.
When in the vapourish blue, I wander, lost, Let some fair paradise reward my eyes-- Hill after hill, and green and sunny vale, As I have known beneath the Irish skies.
So on the far horizon I shall see No alien land but this I hold so dear-- Killiney's silver sands, and Wicklow hills, Dawn on my frightened eyes as I draw near.
And if it be no evil prayer to breathe, Oh, let no stranger saint or seraphim Wait there to lead up to the judgment seat, My timid soul with weeping eyes and dim.
But let them come, those dear and lovely ghosts, In all their human guise and lustihood, To stand upon that shore and call me home, Waving their joyful hands as once they stood-- As once they stood!