Hm   Hm/A   G       D           A
The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold,
    Hm     Hm/A   G       D          A
And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes,
          Hm   Hm/A C         Em      A
For they will ride the  North when the ger-eagle flies,
         Hm Hm/A G        F#   G    F#
With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold
 
I kiss my wailing child and press it to my breast,
And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me,
Desolate wind that cry over the wandering sea;
Desolate wind that hover in the flaming West;

Desolate wind that beats the doors of Heaven, and beat
The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost;
О heart that winds have shaken, the unappeasable host
Is comelier than candles at Mother Mary's feet.