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470 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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CHARLES J. KICKHAM (1830--1882)
MY ULICK
M
Y Ulick is sturdy and strong, And light is his foot on the heather, And truth has been wed to his tongue Since first we were talking together. And though he is lord of no lands, Nor castle, nor cattle, nor dairy, My Ulick has health and his hands,
And a heart-load of love for his Mary,— And what could a maiden wish more?
One night at the heel of the eve,—
I mind it was snowing and blowing,— My mother was knitting, I b'lieve,
For me I was sitting and sewing; My father had read o'er the news,
And sat there a humming, "We'll wake him," When Ulick stepped in at the door,
As white as the weather could make him:— True love never cooled with the frost.
He shook the snow out from his frieze, And drew a chair up to my father,
My heart lifted up to my eyes To see the two sitting together;
They talked of our isle and her wrongs |
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