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This little book is but a glimpse of a fairy structure whose beauty has no peer, and whose antiquity antedates all others of its kind, except the Hellenic. I have chosen it out of that which Julius Pokarney calls a fresh fountain of lore and legend, almost inexhaustible, belonging to the Gaels, to the Irish Gaels. To Mr. Michael O'Gallagher and Mr. David Ryan Twomey of the Gaelic Society of Chicago, I am indebted for kindest assistance in writing the notes. My book is but a wee chraoibhin, yet I hope to see the time of its blossom and fruitage. How can I better express myself than in the beautiful lines of Ethna Carbery:O little green bud, break and blow into flower,Break and blow through the welcome of sunshine and shower;'Twas a long night and dreary you hid there forlorn,But now the cold hills wear the radiance of morn!O wind-drifted branch, lift your head to the sun,For the sap of new life in your veins hath begun!- Mary Grant Osheridan.
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