Irish Songs and Poems By William Allingham: Second Edition: With Nine Airs for Voice and Pianoforte, and a Permanent Photograph of the Waterfall of Asaroe |
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THE PILOT'S DAUGHTER. |
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 | Irish Songs and Poems |  |
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THE PILOT'S DAUGHTER.
I
O'er western tides the fair Spring daySent back a smile as it withdrew,
And all the harbour, glittering gay,
Return'd a blithe adieu;
Great clouds above the hills and sea
Kept brilliant watch, and air was free
For last lark first-born star to greet,—
When, for the crowning vernal sweet,
Among the slopes and crags I meet
The Pilot's pretty Daughter.
II
Round her gentle, happy face,Dimpled soft, and freshly fair,
Danced with careless ocean grace
Locks of auburn hair:
As lightly blew the veering wind,
They touch'd her cheeks, or waved behind,
Unbound, unbraided, and unloop'd;
Or when to tie her shoe she stoop'd
Below her chin the half-curls droop'd,
And veil'd the Pilot's Daughter.
III
Rising, she toss'd them gaily back,With gesture infantine and brief,
To fall around as smooth a neck
As any wild-rose leaf.
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(That choicest tint) was neatly made,
And not too long to hide from view
The stout but noway clumsy shoe,
And stocking's trimly-fitting blue
That graced the Pilot's Daughter.
IV
With look half timid and half droll,And then with slightly downcast eyes,
And something of a blush that stole,
Or something from the skies
Deepening the warmth upon her cheek,
She turn'd when I began to speak;
The firm young step a sculptor's choice;
How clear the cadence of her voice!
Health bade her virgin soul rejoice,—
The Pilot's lovely Daughter!
V
Were it my lot (the sudden wish)To hand a pilot's oar and sail,
Or haul the dripping moonlight mesh
Spangled with herring-scale;
By dying stars, how sweet 'twould be,
And dawn upon the glimmering sea,
With weary, cheery pull to shore,
To gain my cottage-home once more,
And clasp, before I reach the door,
My love, the Pilot's Daughter!
VI
This element beside my feetAllures, a tepid wine of gold;
One touch, one taste, dispels the cheat,
'Tis salt and nipping cold:
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Of narrow thoughts and manners coarse,
Coarse as the curtains that beseem
(Festoons of net) the smoky beam,
Would never lodge my favourite dream,
Though fair my Pilot's Daughter.
VII
To the large riches of the earth,Endowing men in their despite,
The Poor, by privilege of birth,
Stand in the closest right.
Yet not alone the palm grows dull
With clayey delve and watery pull:
And this for me,—or hourly pain;
But could I sink and call it gain?
Unless a pilot true, 'twere vain
To wed a Pilot's Daughter.
VIII
Lift her, perhaps?—but ah! I said,Much wiser leave such thoughts alone.
So may thy beauty, simple maid,
Be mine, yet all thy own;
Join'd in my free contented love
With companies of stars above,
Who from their throne of airy steep
Do kiss these ripples as they creep
Across the boundless darkening deep,—
Low voiceful wave! hush soon to sleep
The Pilot's gentle Daughter!
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