 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
THE CONFESSION
A lovely lass with modest mien
Stole out one morning early;
The dew-drops glancing o'er the green
Made all her pathway pearly.
Young Lawrence, struck with Cupid's dart—
Cupid's dart distressing—
As through the fields he saw her start,
Sighed, “She's gone confessing!
O vo! 'twould ease my heart
To earn the father's blessing.”
Stole out one morning early;
The dew-drops glancing o'er the green
Made all her pathway pearly.
Young Lawrence, struck with Cupid's dart—
Cupid's dart distressing—
As through the fields he saw her start,
Sighed, “She's gone confessing!
O vo! 'twould ease my heart
To earn the father's blessing.”
The father with a twinkling eye,
He watched my boyo cunning,
Unnoticed by his colleen's eye,
Behind the bushes running.
“How well,” he laughed, “young Lawrence there,
After all my pressing,
With his sweetheart, I declare,
Comes at last confessing.
Oho! I'll just take care
To give the lad a lesson.”
He watched my boyo cunning,
Unnoticed by his colleen's eye,
Behind the bushes running.
“How well,” he laughed, “young Lawrence there,
After all my pressing,
With his sweetheart, I declare,
Comes at last confessing.
Oho! I'll just take care
To give the lad a lesson.”
54
The pleasant priest unbarred the door,
As solemn as a shadow,
“How slow,” cried he, “you've come before,
How hot-foot, now, my laddo!
The serious steal with looks sedate,
Seeking to be shriven,
But you, you're in no fitting state
Now to be forgiven.
So, go within and wait
With all your thoughts on heaven.”
As solemn as a shadow,
“How slow,” cried he, “you've come before,
How hot-foot, now, my laddo!
The serious steal with looks sedate,
Seeking to be shriven,
But you, you're in no fitting state
Now to be forgiven.
So, go within and wait
With all your thoughts on heaven.”
The fair one, following in a while,
Made out her faults with meekness;
The priest then asked her with a smile
Had she no other weakness,
And led with that young Lawrence in;
Her cheeks were now confessing.
“Well since 'tis after all a sin
Easy of redressing,
Here, dear, I'd best begin
To give you both my blessing.”
Made out her faults with meekness;
The priest then asked her with a smile
Had she no other weakness,
And led with that young Lawrence in;
Her cheeks were now confessing.
“Well since 'tis after all a sin
Easy of redressing,
Here, dear, I'd best begin
To give you both my blessing.”
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |