EILEEN of four, Eileen of smiles; Eileen of five, Eileen of tears; Eileen of ten, of fifteen years, Eileen of youth And woman's wiles; Eileen of twenty, In love's land, Eileen all tender In her bliss, Untouched by sorrow's treacherous kiss, And the sly weapon in life's hand, -- Eileen aroused to share all fate, Eileen a wife, Pale, beautiful, Eileen most grave and dutiful, Mourning her dreams in queenly state. Eileen! Eileen! ... |