I would wed you, dear, without gold or gear, or counted kine, My wealth you'll be, would fair friends agree, and you be mine. My grief, my gloom! that you do not come, my heart's dear hoard! To Cashel fair, though our couch were there, but a hard deal board. O come, my bride, o'er the wild hill-side to the valley low! A downy bed for my love I'll spread, where waters flow, And we shall stray where streamlets play, the groves among, Where echo tells to the listening dells the blackbird's song. Love tender, true, I gave to you, and secret sighs, In hope to see upon you and me one hour arise, When the priest's blest voice would bind my choice and the ring's strict tie, If wife you be, love, to one but me, love, in grief I'll die. A neck of white has my heart's delight, and breast like snow, And flowing hair whose ringlets fair to the green grass flow, Alas! that I did not early die, before the day That saw me here, from my bosom's dear, far, far away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REPULSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PLACES: 4. EVENING (NAHANT) by SARA TEASDALE PENITENTIAL PSALM: 143. DOMINE EXAUDI by THOMAS WYATT THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG by ANNIE CHAMBERS KETCHUM VERSES ON SEEING IN AN ALBUM A SKETCH OF AN OLD GATEWAY by BERNARD BARTON WHITE GRASS by ADA BAZZACCHINI |