The Brown Wind Of Connaught Poem by Anna Johnston MacManus

The brown wind of Connaught–
Across the bogland blown,
(The brown wind of Connaught ),
Turns my heart to a stone;
For it cries my name at twilight,
And cries it at the noon–
O, Mairgread Bán! O, Mairgread Bán!
Just like a fairy tune.

The brown wind of Connaught,
When Dermot came to woo,
(The brown wind of Connaught ),
It heard his whispers too;
And while my wheel goes whirring,
It taps on my window-pane,
Till I open wide to the Dead outside,
And the sea-salt misty rain.

The Brown wind of Connaught
With women wailed one day
(The brown wind of Connaught ),
For a wreck in Galway Bay;
And many the dark-faced fishers
That gathered their nets in fear,
But one sank straight to the Ghostly Gate–
And he was my Dermot Dear.

The brown wind of Connaught
Still keening in the dawn,
(The brown wind of Connaught ),
For my true love long gone.
Oh, cold green wave of danger,
Drift him a restful sleep
O'er his young black head on its lowly bed,
While his weary wake I keep.