Where Lagan streams Sing lullabies through clouds of lilies fair The half-light gleam is in his eyes The night is on his hair Like a love-sick lenashee He has my heart to call No life have I No liberty For his love is lord of all And often when the late birdsong Has lulled all the world to sleep I will steal into my lover's arms Our secrets there to keep And on the cricket's singing stone He'll make a drywood fire And tell me then Sweet undertones The song of my heart's desire