Poetry Explorer


Classic and Contemporary Poetry


IRISH LOVE SONG by ANONYMOUS

First Line: WOULD GOD I WERE THAT TENDER APPLE-BLOSSOM
Last Line: "THAT SO YOUR SILVER FOOT MIGHT PRESS ME GOING, / EVEN UNTO DEATH!"

Would God I were that tender apple-blossom,
Floating and falling from the twisted bough,
To lie and faint within your silken bosom,
As that does now!

Or would I were a little burnished apple
For you to pluck me, gliding by so cold,
While sun and shade your robe of lawn will dapple,
Your hair's spun gold.

Yea, would to God I were among the roses
That lean to kiss you as you float between!
While on the lowest branch a bud uncloses
To touch you, Queen!

Nay, since you will not love, would I were growing
A happy daisy in the garden path:
That so your silver foot might press me going,
Even unto death!



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