POETRY

MY PROUD DARK-EYED SAILOR

- (To the air of " Castle O'Neill.") My brave boy is far from me,

Oh, my sorrow,- on a strange, distant shore—

My proud, dark-eyed sailor, When shall I see him once more ?

With heart near to the breaking, In the harvest field lonesome 'I bind.

It is alone I'm hay-making, - When each girl has her boy close and kind.

Ah, heavy the steps. I take, _

As to Chapel on the Sunday I walk, Since he's not to meet me,

With his fond looks and low., tender talk ;

Par While my rose-tree richly flowering, Whose blossom he plucked for my breast, Its petals sadly is showering, At the long; bitter blast froM the West.

But deep down within my heart, There's a dear hope we'll be meeting next spring, .

My proud, dark-eyed sailor !

And our marriage bells sweetly shall ring ; Till beside you walking, high-headed, Under. Castle O'Neill's shining towers,

Upon your arm-, when we're wedded, - wen pass thrOUgh a pelting.of floivers.

J

ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES.