Classic Poem

— — I N the years about twenty
— — (When kisses are plenty)
The love of an Irish lass fell to my fate —
— — So winsome and sightly,
— — So saucy and sprightly,
The priest was a prophet that christened her Kate.

— — Soft gray of the dawning,
— — Bright blue of the morning,
The sweet of her eye there was nothing to mate;
— — A nose like a fairy's,
— — A cheek like a cherry's,
And a smile — well, her smile was like — nothing but Kate.

— — To see her was passion,
— — To love her, the fashion;
What wonder my heart was unwilling to wait!
— — And, daring to love her,
— — I soon did discover
A Katherine masking in mischievous Kate.

— — No Katy unruly
— — But Katherine, truly —
Fond, serious, patient, and even sedate;
— — With a glow in her gladness
— — That banishes sadness —
Yet stay! Should I credit the sunshine to Kate?

— — Love cannot outlive it,
— — Wealth cannot o'ergive it —
The saucy surrender she made at the gate.
— — O Time, be but human,
— — Spare the girl in the woman!
You gave me my Katherine — leave me my Kate!