 | The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien |  |
106
WILLY AND I.
We grew together in wind and rain,
We shared the pleasure, we shared the pain;
I would have died for him, and he,
I thought, would have done the same for me,—
Willy and I.
We shared the pleasure, we shared the pain;
I would have died for him, and he,
I thought, would have done the same for me,—
Willy and I.
Summer and winter found us together,
Through snow and storm and shiny weather;
Together we hid in the scented hay,
Or plucked the blooms of our English May,—
Willy and I.
Through snow and storm and shiny weather;
Together we hid in the scented hay,
Or plucked the blooms of our English May,—
Willy and I.
I called him husband, he called me wife,
We builded the dream of a perfect life:
He was to conquer some noble state,
And I was to love him through every fate,—
Willy and I.
We builded the dream of a perfect life:
He was to conquer some noble state,
And I was to love him through every fate,—
Willy and I.
O, he was so fair, with his golden hair,
And his breath was sweet as our homestead air!
My cheeks were red,—and the neighbors said,
A thousand pities we were not wed,—
Willy and I.
And his breath was sweet as our homestead air!
My cheeks were red,—and the neighbors said,
A thousand pities we were not wed,—
Willy and I.
Now I stand alone in the wind and rain,
With none of the pleasure and all the pain;
I am a beggar, and Willy is dead,
And the blood of another is on his head,—
Willy and I.
With none of the pleasure and all the pain;
I am a beggar, and Willy is dead,
And the blood of another is on his head,—
Willy and I.
| The poems and stories of Fitz-James O'Brien | |