When the sun rose on the morning of the morrow Winny of the Cross Roads rose up from where she was sitting beside the body, and began her begging from townland to townland, singing the same song as she walked, ’I am beautiful, I am beautiful.  The birds in the air, the moths under the leaves, the flies over the water look at me.  Look at me, perishing woods, for my body will be shining like the lake water after you have been hurried away.  You and the old race of men, and the race of the beasts, and the race of the fish, and the winged race, are wearing away like a candle that has been burned out.  But I laugh out loud, because I am in my youth.’

She did not come back that night or any night to the cabin, and it was not till the end of two days that the turf cutters going to the bog found the body of Red Owen Hanrahan, and gathered men to wake him and women to keen him, and gave him a burying worthy of so great a poet.