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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=424404" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Banshee</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Green, in the wizard arms<br>Of the foam-bearded Atlantic,<br>An isle of old enchantment,<br>A melancholy isle,<br>Enchanted and dreaming lies;<br>And there, by Shannon's flowing,<br>In the moonlight, spectre-thin,<br>The spectre Erin sits.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An aged desolation,<br>She sits by old Shannon's flowing,<br>A mother of many children,<br>Of children exiled and dead,<br>In her home, with bent head, homeless,<br>Clasping her knees she sits,<br>Keening, keening!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And at her keen the fairy-grass<br>Trembles on dun and barrow;<br>Around the foot of her ancient crosses<br>The grave-grass shakes and the nettle swings;<br>In haunted glens the meadow-sweet<br>Flings to the night wind<br>Her mystic mournful perfume;<br>The sad spearmint by holy wells<br>Breathes melancholy balm.<br>Sometimes she lifts her head,<br>With blue eyes tearless,<br>And gazes athwart the reek of night<br>Upon things long past,<br>Upon things to come.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And sometimes, when the moon<br>Brings tempest upon the deep,<br>The roused Atlantic thunders from his caverns in the west,<br>The wolfhound at her feet<br>Springs up with a mighty bay,<br>And chords of mystery sound from the wild harp at her side,<br>Strung from the hearts of poets;<br>And she flies on the wings of tempest<br>With grey hair streaming:<br>A meteor of evil omen,<br>The spectre of hope forlorn,<br>Keening, keening!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She keens, and the strings of her wild harp shiver<br>On the gusts of night:<br>O'er the four waters she keens--over Moyle she keens,<br>O'er the Sea of Milith, and the Strait of Strongbow,<br>And the Ocean of Columbus.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the Fianna hear, and the ghosts of her cloudy hovering heroes;<br>And the swan, Fianoula, wails o'er the waters of Inisfail,<br>Chanting her song of destiny,<br>The rune of weaving Fates.<br>And the nations hear in the void and quaking time of night,<br>Sad unto dawning, dirges, <br>Solemn dirges,<br>And snatches of bardic song;<br>Their souls quake in the void and quaking time of night,<br>And they dream of the weird of kings,<br>And tyrannies moulting, sick,<br>In the dreadful wind of change.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wail no more, lonely one, mother of exiles, wail no more,<br>Banshee of the world--no more!<br>The sorrows are the world's, though art no more alone;<br>Thy wrongs, the world's.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Todhunter">John Todhunter</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=424404" data-title="The Banshee de John Todhunter" data-description="Green, in the wizard arms
Of the foam-bearded Atlantic,
An isle of old enchantment,
A melancholy isle,
Enchanted and dreaming lies;
And there, by Shannon's flowing,
In the moonlight, spectre-thin,
The spectre Erin sits.

An aged desolation,
She si..."></div>
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