My dearie! My wee thing! 
The world is a cold, 
the sullen winter's piping 
is shrill across the wold; 
No bloom is in the garden, 
No leaf upon the tree,
But in your eyes, my bright one,
The summer stays with me.

Macushla! My birdling! 
The glad song is still
That used to wake the morning 
upon the rolling hill;
The hunger and the silence
Lie heavy upon men,
But in your voice my starling, 
The dawning sings again.

My heart's love! My own one! 
The dark time is drear;
The lowness should be on me,
The sorrow and the fear.
But God forgive my daring! 
I'm laughing night and day
With you upon my bossom,
My little breath of May.