Where Lagan stream sings lullaby There grows a lily fair The twilight gleam is in her eye The night is on her hair And like a lovesick leannsidhe She hath my heart enthrall No life I own or liberty For love is lord of all And often when the beetle's tone Has lulled the eve to sleep I creep down to her sheeling low And through the door I peep There on the cricket's singing stone She piles the bog-wood fire And sings in love's sweet undertones A song of heart's desire