22 AUGUST 1925, Page 17

POETRY:

PADDY O'RAFFERTY

(TO THE AIR OF THAT IRISH SONG) By the Author of Father O'Flynn.

" WHAT are you thinking of, Loney Proud3r !

Your head in the air and your looks so cloudy ?

Confess 'tis a poem of elegant flattery

Turns, all your thoughts upon pretty Peg Slattery—!

Am I out, then, Paddy O'Rafferty ? "

" Sorrow doubt, .then, Rosaleen Cafferty 1" " One more guess ? Och ! now I've the gadabout Girl that. you're growing so solemn and sad about."

" Well, tell 1" " Celia Connolly ? " " Curls and pearls 1 " Delia Donnelly " " That cat ! Your girls aren't a pennyworth : So of . my thoughts I'll present you this guineaworth Whose are the glances that set the stars glistening ?

Who is the lilter that holds the lark listening ?

Whose is the swan-shape that past us goes swimming ?

Whose feet in the dance like two swallows are skimming ?

Whose is the smile that awakens our wonder, Like lucky white heath the red heather inunder ?— Yet who, tell me true, is the wavering thistledown Never content with a lover to nestle doWn ? "

" Will you walk out with me, Rosaleen Cafferty ? "

" That's just the doubt with me, Paddy O'Rafferty I Where is the walk that we two would be walking ?

And what is the talk that you'd have us be talking ?

" In your ear—I'll whisper the whole of it, By the weir—when making a stroll of it."

" P'raps, my friend, I'll make just a start with you—

But ere the end I'm not sure but I'll part with you I " Shrove, dear, that is the day for me I " " No fear that's not the way for me."

" Then, when ? " " If life must be spent with me, I must engage you to make a good Lent with me I I'm not the sort for a pancakey wedding, Life's not one long Rinkafodda* for treading, For who that is serious, Paddy, supposes Its paths lie for ever through lilies and roses.

Runaway fools, for their rollicking pleasure, Marry in haste and repent at their leisure ;

He who fasts best is the happiest feaster—

So, Pat, have that golden ring ready for Easter I " ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVEL * A long dance, the Irish Sir Roger de Coverley.