 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
93
ROSE AND RUE
I was a maiden fair and fond,
Smiling, singing all the day;
Till Maguire, with looks of fire,
He stole my heart away.
The gard'ner's son as he stood by
Blossoms four did give to me:
The pink, the rue, the violet blue,
And the red, red rosy tree.
Smiling, singing all the day;
Till Maguire, with looks of fire,
He stole my heart away.
The gard'ner's son as he stood by
Blossoms four did give to me:
The pink, the rue, the violet blue,
And the red, red rosy tree.
Lass, for your lips the sweet clove pink,
For your eyes the violets blue;
The rose to speak your damask cheek,
For memory the rue.
Oh, but my love at first was fond,
Now, alas, he's turned untrue,
My rose and pink and violet shrink,
But tears keep fresh my rue.
For your eyes the violets blue;
The rose to speak your damask cheek,
For memory the rue.
Oh, but my love at first was fond,
Now, alas, he's turned untrue,
My rose and pink and violet shrink,
But tears keep fresh my rue.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |