| |
| “AH! sweet Kitty Neil, rise up from that wheel,— | |
| Your neat little foot will be weary with spinning! | |
| Come trip down with me to the sycamore-tree: | |
| Half the parish is there, and the dance is beginning. | |
| The sun is gone down, but the full harvest moon | 5 |
| Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened valley; | |
| While all the air rings with the soft, loving things | |
| Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley.” | |
| |
| With a blush and a smile Kitty rose up the while, | |
| Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair, glancing; | 10 |
| ’T is hard to refuse when a young lover sues, | |
| So she couldn’t but choose to go off to the dancing. | |
| And now on the green the glad groups are seen,— | |
| Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosing; | |
| And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil— | 15 |
| Somehow, when he asked, she ne’er thought of refusing. | |
| |
| Now Felix Magee put his pipes to his knee, | |
| And with flourish so free sets each couple in motion: | |
| With a cheer and a bound the lads patter the ground; | |
| The maids move around just like swans on the ocean. | 20 |
| Cheeks bright as the rose, feet light as the doe’s, | |
| Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing: | |
| Search the world all around, from the sky to the ground, | |
| No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing! | |
| |
| Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue, | 25 |
| Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly, | |
| Your fair-turnèd arm, heaving breast, rounded form, | |
| Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly? | |
| Young Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart, | |
| Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love: | 30 |
| The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh, | |
| Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love! | |
| |
