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KATHLEEN.
What moans with the east wind?
Ah, listen, Aileen!
Through the dull mist and rain
I hear it complain.—
'Tis only the shriek of the curlew,
    Kathleen!

I look to the sea-side,
The pale shore, Aileen!
There is something adrift
That the waves toss and lift—
A boat, tempest-torn from its moorings,
    Kathleen!