Clach-bràth…

 

Green vervain round its base did creep,
A powerful seed that bore;
And oft, of yore, its channels deep
Were stain’d with human gore…

And still, when blood-drops, clotted thin,
Hang the gray moss upon,
The spirit murmurs from within,
And shakes the rocking stone…

Taken from  The Court of Keeldar ballad ~ J. Leyden

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