Classic Poem

Have you been at Carrick, and saw my true-love there?
And saw you her features, all beautiful, bright, and fair?
Saw you the most fragrant, flowering, sweet apple-tree? —
Oh! saw you my loved one, and pines she in grief like me?

I have been at Carrick, and saw thy own true-love there;
And saw, too, her features, all beautiful, bright and fair;
And saw the most fragrant, flowering, sweet apple-tree —
I saw thy loved one — she pines not in grief, like thee!

Five guineas would price every tress of her golden hair —
Then think what a treasure her pillow at night to share,
These tresses thick-clustering and curling around her brow —
Oh, Ringlet of Fairness! I'll drink to thy beauty now! !

When seeking to slumber, my bosom is rent with sighs —
I toss on my pillow till morning's blest beams arise;
No aid, bright Beloved! can reach me save God above,
For a blood-lake is formed of the light of my eyes with love!

Until yellow Autumn shall usher the Paschal day,
And Patrick's gay festival come in its train alway —
Although through my coffin the blossoming boughs shall grow,
My love on another I'll never in life bestow!

Lo! yonder the maiden illustrious, queen-like, high,
With long-flowing tresses adown to her sandal-tie —
Swan, fair as the lily, descended of high degree,
A myriad of welcomes, dear maid of my heart, to thee!