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60
THE SAD PLAINT OF MICKIETWO
to A. B. HORNE, ESQ.
Oh! tell me, tell me, where is SHE,
That hath ta'en the heart clean out of me?
From base to attic, from attic to base
I prowl and prowl in fruitless chase;
Nor eat, nor sleep, nor sing, nor play
From ope unto the shut of day,
Since my Sweet-heart they've stole away!
That hath ta'en the heart clean out of me?
From base to attic, from attic to base
I prowl and prowl in fruitless chase;
Nor eat, nor sleep, nor sing, nor play
From ope unto the shut of day,
Since my Sweet-heart they've stole away!
Oh! pray, Kind Sir, but tell to me
If thou hast seen, or may chance to see,
My most incomparable SHE!
If thou hast seen, or may chance to see,
My most incomparable SHE!
Her locks are white as the driven snow,
Her eyne are soft as the full-ripe sloe;
From out her teeth of orient pearl
A soft tongue peeps as a rose in curl—
Oh! Wendy, girl!
From thy nose to toes
Beauty's self in full gamut goes!
And where thou art, but Heaven knows!
Her eyne are soft as the full-ripe sloe;
From out her teeth of orient pearl
A soft tongue peeps as a rose in curl—
Oh! Wendy, girl!
From thy nose to toes
Beauty's self in full gamut goes!
And where thou art, but Heaven knows!
And so I wander, and wail, and pine,
Though rain may tumble, or sun may shine—
Rain or sun
Ah! it's all but one
To a Body that's lost its very Soul,
As mine was lost, when away they stole—
Oh! cruel, cruel, cruel, cruel!
My one incomparable Jewel!
Though rain may tumble, or sun may shine—
Rain or sun
Ah! it's all but one
To a Body that's lost its very Soul,
As mine was lost, when away they stole—
Oh! cruel, cruel, cruel, cruel!
My one incomparable Jewel!
January 8th, 1911.
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