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376 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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With the foot of the fawn she crossed the lawn,
Half confiding and half in fear; And her eyes of blue they thrilled me through,
One blessed minute ; then, like the deer,
Away she darted, and left me here.
O sun, you are late at your golden gate, For you've nothing to show beneath the sky
To compare to the lass, who crossed the grass Of the shamrock field, ere the dew was dry, And the glance she gave me as she went by.
LIKE A STONE IN THE STREET
I
'M left all alone like a stone at the side of the street, With no kind " good day " on the way from the many I meet. Still with looks cold and high they go by, not one
brow now unbends, None hold out his hand of the band of my fair-weather friends.
They helped me to spend to the end all my fine shinÂing store,
They drank to my health and my wealth till both were no more.
And now they are off with a scoff as they leave me behind,
" When you've ate the rich fruit, underfoot with the bare bitter rind."
There's rest deep and still on yon hill by our old Chapel's side; |
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