Tho' her house the day's a tumblin' There's sorra a wan to tell Why wee rosies climbed her windies An' the moss peeped down her well; Sure the blue-bells in the wood-way Shed their dew-drops at her feet;— An' the thrushes joined to pipin' When they knowed the time we'd meet! There's an' ould thatch-house a tossin', Ay, the men is out from town;— An' 'tis whisht I doubt is thrushes Whilst wee walls is fallin' down!— An' thon clouds av goold that's trailin' Since the men's gone home to rest, Is for partin' shine, I'm thinkin', On wee windies lookin' West! Ay, an' ould wee house a tumblin', But sorra a wan to know Be my colleen crowned wid sunshine, Och, or shrouded sure in snow! An' bewhiles I thinks she laughin', In a wood-way or boreen,— But there's rosies, ay, an' blue-bells, An' a sight av years between! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE HALIBUT ON WHICH I DINED by WILLIAM COWPER THE REALM OF FANCY by JOHN KEATS TWO VARIATIONS ON AN OLD NURSEY RHYME: 2 by EDITH SITWELL THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER by JOHANN LUDWIG UHLAND DIRGE FOR TWO VETERANS by WALT WHITMAN NEGRO GIRL by IRENE COOPER ALLEN DRINKING; PARAPHRASED by ANACREON TO BARON DE STONNE.....TO FIND HIMSELF BETWEEN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |