IN the years about twenty (When kisses are plenty) The love of an Irish lass fell to my fate -- So winsome and sightly, So saucy and sprightly, The priest was a prophet that christened her Kate. Soft gray of the dawning, Bright blue of the morning, The sweet of her eye there was nothing to mate; A nose like a fairy's, A cheek like a cherry's, And a smile -- well, her smile was like -- nothing but Kate. To see her was passion, To love her, the fashion; What wonder my heart was unwilling to wait! And, daring to love her, I soon did discover A Katharine masking as mischievous Kate. No Katy unruly, But Katharine, truly -- Fond, serious, patient, and even sedate; With a glow in her gladness That banishes sadness -- Yet stay! Should I credit the sunshine to @3Kate?@1 Love cannot outlive it, Wealth cannot o'ergive it -- That saucy surrender she made at the gate. O Time, be but human, Spare the girl in the woman! You gave me my Katharine -- leave me my Kate! |