Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 6 (April-September 1915).djvu/220

POETRY: A Magazine of Verse "I'll sing the song, sir."

To-night you see my face— Maybe nevermore you'll gaze On the one that for you left his friends and kin; For by the hard commands Of the lord that rules these lands On a ship I'll be borne from Cruckaunfinn!

Oh, you know your beauty bright Has made him think delight More than from any fair one he will gain; Oh, you know that all his will Strains and strives around you till As the hawk upon his hand you are as tame!

Then she to him replied: I'll no longer you deny, And I'll let you have the pleasure of my charms; For to-night I'll be your bride, And whatever may betide It's we will lie in one another's arms!

"You should not sing With body doubled up and face aside— There is a climax here—'It's we will lie'— Hem—passionate! And what does your daughter sing?"

"A song I like when I do climb bare hills— 'Tis all about a hawk."

No bird that sits on rock or bough Has such a front as thine;