The kisses of Angus came to me–
And three bright birds on my apple-tree
Pipe their magical haunting song
That shall fill with dreaming my whole life long.

The first bird sings of my love's shut eyes,
The second her lips where silence lies,
The third her blushes for ever fled,
And the plenteous curls of her radiant head.

Night and day, asleep or awake,
I carry a heart nigh fit to break,
I carry a pain I shall not forget
Until above me the cairn is set.

For Angus the Druid sent them forth–
These birds that fly to the South and North;
Three kisses he blew on a fateful wind–
These three bright birds for our grief designed.

He bade them circle green Eri round,
Wherever a love-lorn youth be found,
From the High-King's son in his torque of gold,
To the shepherd guarding his master 's fold

He bade them sting like the honey-bee,
In the bitter-sweet of their minstrelsy;
Or soothe as soft as a mother's croon
When her tired babe droops to the drowsy tune.

He bade them foster the wild unrest
That burns like flame in a lover's breast,
Or haunt the sad from a burial-place
With the pale content of a ghostly face.

Mo bhrón! mo bhrón! my lady's sleep
Under the bracken is cold and deep;
At head and at foot stands an ogham-stone,
Where my carved lament on each slab is shown.

Why doth the young god hurl his ire
At a lover bereft of his soul's Desire?
My heart goes withering in the sun–
And mirth hath forsaken my father's dún.

It is Sorrow's raven I fain would see!
O Angus, call the bright birds from me!
To happier lovers who love may win–
For the hill-fern foldeth my dear one in.