I go to knit two clans together;
Our clan and this clan unseen of yore: —
Our clan fears nought! but I go, whither?
This day I go from my mother's door.

Thou redbreast sing'st the old song over,
Though many a time thou hast sung it before;
They never sent thee to some strange new lover: —
I sing a new song by my mother's door.

I stepp'd from my little room down by the ladder,
The ladder that never so shook before;
I was sad last night; to-day I am sadder,
Because I go from my mother's door.

The last snow melts upon bush and bramble;
The gold bars shine on the forest's floor;
Shake not, thou leaf! it is I must tremble
Because I go from my mother's door.

From a Spanish sailor a dagger I bought me;
I trail'd a rose-three our grey bawn o'er;
The creed and my letters our bard taught me;
My days were sweet by my mother's door.

My little white goat that with raised feet huggest
The oak stock, thy horns in the ivies frore,
Could I wrestle like thee — how the wreaths thou tuggest! —
I never would move from my mother's door.

Oh weep no longer, my nurse and mother!
My foster-sister, weep not so sore!
You cannot come with me, Ir, my brother —
Along I go from my mother's door.

Farewell, my wolf-hound, that slew Mac Owing
As he caught me and far through the thickets bore:
My heifer, Alb, in the green vale lowing,
My cygnet's nest upon Lorna's shore!

He has kill'd ten chiefs, this chief that plights me;
His hand is like that of the giant Balor:
But I fear his kiss; and his beard affrights me,
And the great stone dragon above his door.

Had I daughters nine with me they should tarry;
They should sing old songs; they should dance at my door;
They should grind at the quern; — no need to marry;
Oh when will this marriage-day be o'er?

Had I buried, like Moirin, three mates already
I might say, " Three husbands! then why not four? "
But my hand is cold and my foot unsteady
Because I never was married before!