  Ringleted youth of my love, With thy locks bound loosely behind thee, You passed by the road above, But you never came in to find me; Where were the harm for you If you came for a little to see me, Your kiss is a wakening dew Were I ever so ill or so dreamy. If I had golden store I would make a nice little boreen To lead straight up to his door, The door of the house of my storeen; Hoping to God not to miss The sound of his footfall in it, I have waited so long for his kiss That for days I have slept not a minute. I thought, O my love! you were so— As the moon is, or sun on a fountain, And I thought after that you were snow, The cold snow on top of the mountain; Like God's lamp shining to find me, Or the bright star of knowledge before, And the star of knowledge behind me. You promised me high-heeled shoes, And satin and silk, my storeen, And to follow me, never to lose, Though the ocean were round us roaring; Like a bush in a gap in a wall I am now left lonely without thee, And this house I grow dead of, is all That I see around or about me. Douglas Hyde. |
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