I took a reed and blew a tune,
And sweet it was and very
To be about a little
That only few hold dear.
Three times the cuckoo named himself,
But nothing heard him on the hill,
Where I was piping like an
The air was very still.'Twas all about a little thingI made a mystery of sound,
I found it in a fairy
Upon a fairy mound.
This poem taken from "Last Songs" by Francis Ledwidge,
Published by Herbert Jenkins,
London 1918 [page 63-64]Poem Dated: June 2nd, 1917.
Words and spelling verified JS
