Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 9. GOING TO THE FAIR, by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM



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LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 9. GOING TO THE FAIR, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Ere yet the sun has dried on hedge and furze
Last Line: And biddy enters lisnamoy in pride;
Alternate Author Name(s): Pollex, D.; Walker, Patricius
Subject(s): Animals; Country Life; Festivals; Poverty; Fairs; Pageants


Ere yet the sun has dried on hedge and furze
Their silver veils of dewy gossamers,
Along the winding road to Lisnamoy
The drover trudges and the country boy,
With cows that fain would crop its fringe of sward,
And pigs, their hindfoot jerking in a cord,
And bleating sheep; the farmer jogs his way,
Or plies his staff and legs of woollen gray;
The basket-bearing goodwives slowly move,
White-capt, with colour'd kerchief tied above,
On foot, or in the cart-front placed on high
To jolt along in lumbering luxury;
Men, women, pigs, cows, sheep, and horses tend
One way, and to the harvest fair they wend;
Jack Doran with the rest, with sorry cheer,
Condemn'd at Pigot's Office to appear,—
To him a place of awe, and doubt, and fear.

'Tis where the road-side rivulet expands,
And every stone upon its image stands,
The country maidens finish their attire,
Screen'd by the network of a tangled briar;
On grassy bank their shapely limbs indue
With milk-white stockings and the well-black'd shoe,
And court that mirror for a final grace,
The dazzling ribbons nodding round their face.
Behold our Bridget tripping to the fair;
Her shawl is splendid, but her feet are bare;
Till, quick the little bundle here untied,
The shoes come forth, the skirts are shaken wide,
And Biddy enters Lisnamoy in pride;





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