Classic Poem

O, the wind, it wails so loudly,
So loudly o'er the sea!
Ah, woe is me! Ah, woe is me!
I bear the Branch of the Silver Tree,
While the wind wails thro' the heart of me—
And yet my heart beats proudly!

O, the Queen of the Sidhe, to my sorrow,
(Cease singing, O Silver Bough)
I know not why, and I know not how,
She bade me sail, and set my prow
To the West where the sun is sinking now:
O, shall I set sail on the morrow?

O, the wind it blows so coldly,
So coldly o'er the main,
And my heart is filled with pain:
Say, is it loss or gain
To leave my loved ones twain,
My country and my love, and to go boldly?

Ah, thou but add'st to my sorrow,
Silver Bough of the Apple Tree;
Gifts of the Sidhe,
Too fair are ye
For the ear to hear and the eye to see!—
I will sail with thee on the morrow!