The Dreamers | Page 9

the little children play?Look down with gracious mien.
THE LITTLE JOYS
My little joys went by me?As little children run?Across the fields at sunset?When playing time is done.
And now alone at twilight?What is there may content?The heart that loved their laughter?And frolic merriment?
Ah well, who knows but still may dawn?Another fairer day?Wherein my little joys may come?A-dancing out to play.
SONGS OF HIMSELF
HIMSELF
The houseful that we were then, you could count us by the dozens, The wonder was that sometimes the old walls wouldn't burst: Herself (the Lord be good to her!), the aunts and rafts of cousins, The young folks and the children,--but Himself came first.
_Master of the House he was, and well for them that knew it:_ _His cheeks like winter apples and his head like snow;_ _Eyes as blue as water when the sun of March shines through it._ _And steppin' like a soldier with his stick held so._
Faith, but he could tell a tale would serve a man for wages, Sing a song would put the joy of dancin' in two sticks; But Saints between themselves and harm that saw him in his rages, Blazin' and oratin' over chess and politics.
_Master of the House he was, and that beyond all sayin',_ _Eh, the times I've heard him exhortin' from his chair_ _The like of any Bishop, yet snappin' off his prayin'_?_To put the curse on Phelan's dog for howlin' in the prayer._
The times I've seen him walkin' out like Solomon in glory, Salutin' with great elegance the gentry he might meet;?An eye for every pretty girl, an ear for every story,?And takin' as his just deserts the middle of the street.
_Master of the House, with much to love and be forgiven,--_ _Yet, thinkin' of Himself to-day--Himself--I see him go_ _With that old light step of his, across the Courts of Heaven,_ _His hat a little sideways and his stick held so._
THE FAIR
The pick o' seven counties, so they're tellin' me, was there, Horses racin' on the track, and fiddles on the green,?Flyin' flags and blowin' horns and all that makes a fair, I'm hearin' that the like of it was something never seen.
So it is they're tellin' me,
Girl dear, it may be true--
I only know the bonnet strings
Beneath your chin were blue.
I'm hearin' that the cattle came that thick they stood in rows, And Doolan's Timmy caught the pig and Terry climbed the pole, They're tellin' me they showed the cream of everything that grows, And never man had eyes enough for takin' in the whole.
So it is they're tellin' me,
Girl dear, it may be so,
I only know your little gown
Was whiter than the snow.
They're tellin' me the gentry came from twenty miles about, And him that came from Ballinsloe sang limpin' Jamesey down, And 'twas Himself, no less, stood by to give the prizes out, They're tellin' me you'd hear the noise from here to Dublin town.
So it is they're tellin' me,
Girl dear, the same may be,
I only know that comin' home
You gave your word to me.
HIS DANCING DAYS
Never did I find me mate for charmin' an' delightin',?Never one that had me bate for courtin' an' for fightin';-- (A white moon at the crossroads then, and Denny with the fiddle; The parish round admirin', when I danced down the middle.) Up the earth and down again, me like you'd not discover; Arrah! for the times before me dancin' days were over!
Never was a moon so low it didn't find me courtin',?Never blade I couldn't show a wilder way of sportin'.?(Is it at the fair I'd be, the gentry'd troop to talk with me; Leapin' with delight was she,--the girl I'd choose to walk with me.) 'Twas