Grieving in the hollow dark, lone along the lane,
Mary, Mary Shepherdess gathers them again.

And O the wandering women know, in workhouse and in shed,
They dream on Mary Shepherdess with doves about her head,
And pleasant posies in her hand, and sorrow comforted.

Saying: there's my little lass, faring fine and free,
There's the little lad I laid by the holly tree,
Dreaming: There's my nameless bairn laughing at her knee.

When the bracken-harvest's gathered and the frost is on the loam
When the dream goes out in silence and the ebb runs out in foam,
Mary, Mary Shepherdess, she leads the lost lambs home.

If I had a little maid to turn my tears away,
If I had a little lad to lead me when I'm gray,
All to Mary Shepherdess they'd fold their hands and pray.


THE LITTLE GHOST: KATHERINE TYNAN

The stars began to peep
Gone was the bitter day,
She heard the milky ewes
Bleat to their lambs astray.
Her heart cried for her lamb
Lapped cold in the churchyard sod,
She could not think on the happy children
At play with the Lamb of God.