 | Poems and Songs |  |
Mea.
Mea! blithesome Mea!
Goes slowly down the glen—
A-listening to the blackbird
And the genty wren
Every note and twitter
Fills her heart with glee;
Mea! rosy Mea!
Who so blithe as she?
Goes slowly down the glen—
A-listening to the blackbird
And the genty wren
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Fills her heart with glee;
Mea! rosy Mea!
Who so blithe as she?
Mea! rosy Mea!
Lilts from bower to bower—
A wealth of pleasure finding
In each passing hour.
Still trustful of the present—
Nor fearing what may be;
Mea! guileless Mea!
Who so blithe as she?
Lilts from bower to bower—
A wealth of pleasure finding
In each passing hour.
Still trustful of the present—
Nor fearing what may be;
Mea! guileless Mea!
Who so blithe as she?
Mea! lithesome Mea!
Of rambling feats can tell
By lonely moor and mountain,
Dark tarn and rocky fell.
And she can boast of angling,
But still, averse to pain—
The trout her skill secures her
She aye throws back again.
Of rambling feats can tell
By lonely moor and mountain,
Dark tarn and rocky fell.
And she can boast of angling,
But still, averse to pain—
The trout her skill secures her
She aye throws back again.
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Mea! fearless Mea!
On the cliffs can stand,
Where she, leaning forward,
Sees the sea-washed sand.
Kaes peer out beneath her,
And flowers, beyond her reach;
As she longs to flutter
Down towards the beach.
On the cliffs can stand,
Where she, leaning forward,
Sees the sea-washed sand.
Kaes peer out beneath her,
And flowers, beyond her reach;
As she longs to flutter
Down towards the beach.
Mea! wondering Mea!
Sitting in the bay,
A-listening to the rollers,
Dreams brief hours away.
And well she knows the roaring
Of the great wave nigh,
Ere her feet it reaches,
Will dwindle to a sigh.
Sitting in the bay,
A-listening to the rollers,
Dreams brief hours away.
And well she knows the roaring
Of the great wave nigh,
Ere her feet it reaches,
Will dwindle to a sigh.
Mea! ardent Mea!
In all that's tasteful speeds—
See, she deftly changes
Into flowers those weeds.
Ask her, and she'll lead you
To the sun-touched pool,
Where the weeds were tossing
When the tide was full.
In all that's tasteful speeds—
See, she deftly changes
Into flowers those weeds.
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To the sun-touched pool,
Where the weeds were tossing
When the tide was full.
Mea! sloe-eyed Mea!
Far away from home,
But a little longer
'Mong these hills will roam;
Flowers and leaves will wither,
Birds and sea will mourn,
When she to the city
Must again return.
Far away from home,
But a little longer
'Mong these hills will roam;
Flowers and leaves will wither,
Birds and sea will mourn,
When she to the city
Must again return.
Mea! tireless Mea!
Roams from morn to e'en,
Where a stranger rarely
On her path is seen.
Sea-gems in her satchel,
Sea-flowers in her hand—
What so fair as Mea
On the pebbly strand?
Roams from morn to e'en,
Where a stranger rarely
On her path is seen.
Sea-gems in her satchel,
Sea-flowers in her hand—
What so fair as Mea
On the pebbly strand?
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Nay! she's not my Mea!
I my best have seen;
And she has left behind her
But her first sweet 'teen.
But, when love has found her,
Still my song would be—
Mea! rosy Mea!
Who so blithe as she?
I my best have seen;
And she has left behind her
But her first sweet 'teen.
But, when love has found her,
Still my song would be—
Mea! rosy Mea!
Who so blithe as she?
| Poems and Songs | |