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3io THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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Oh, though our anchor may not be all I have fondly
sung, Honor him for their memory, whose bones he goes
among!
THE LAPFUL OF NUTS
W
HENE'ER I see soft hazel eyes, And nut-brown curls, I think of those bright days I spent Among the Limerick girls; When up through Cratla woods I went
"Nutting with thee; And we plucked the glossy, clustering fruit From many a bending tree.
Beneath the hazel boughs we sat,
Thou, love, and I, And the gathered nuts lay in thy lap,
Below thy downcast eye. But little we thought of the store we'd won,
I, love, or thou, For our hearts were full, and we dare not own
The love that's spoken now.
O there's wars for willing hearts in Spain,
And high Germanie! And I'll come back, if I ever come back,
With knightly fame and fee, And I'll come back, if I ever come back,
Faithful to thee, That sat, with thy white lap full of nuts,
Beneath the hazel-tree. |
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