POETRY.
EVA TUOHILL.
Wuo's not heard of Eva Tuohill, Munster's purest, proudest jewel,— Queen of Limerick's lovely maidens, Cork colleens, and Galway girls— With her slender shape that's swimmie Like a swan among the women, With her voice of silver cadence, And her crown of clustering curls ?
Eva Tuohill, Eva Tuohill !
Sure you're just one glorious jewel ! Lit with lovely, flying flushes, From delightful lip to brow ; Now in dreams your eyes they darkle, Now with joy they dance and sparkle ; Now your cheek is bathed in blushes, Drowned in dimpled laughter now.
But your beauty, Eva Tuohill, Is no opal false and cruel, Nor the meteor-star deceiving, Flashing ruin from above,— No I but some divinest splendour, Out of angels' tear-drops tender Crystalled, in one Iris weaving Faith and Hope and Virgin Love.
THE AUTHOR OF "SONGS OF KILLARNEY."
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