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Francis Ledwidge - The Shadow People
Work rating: Low

Old lame Bridget doesn`t hear
Fairy music in the grass
When the gloaming`s on the mere
And the shadow people pass:
Never hears their slow grey feet
Coming from the village street
Just beyond the parson`s wall,
Where the clover globes are sweet
And the mushroom`s parasol
Opens in the moonlit rain.
Every night I hear them call
From their long and merry train.
Old lame Bridget says to me,
"It is just your fancy, child."
She cannot believe I see
Laughing faces in the wild,
Hands that twinkle in the sedge
Bowing at the water`s edge
Where the finny minnows quiver,
Shaping on a blue wave`s ledge
Bubble foam to sail the river.
And the sunny hands to me
Beckon ever, beckon ever.
Oh! I would be wild and free,
And with the shadow people be.
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