POETRY,
EASTER SNOW.*
(Written to the tune "Easter Snow " in Miss Ilonoria Galwey's Collectiott of Irish Airs.)
MY jewel of the world, she sleeps so fast, She will not hear you, Spring wind, if you blow; So let you shake the blossoms of the thorn Till her bed is hidden deep in Easter snow.
Bright jewel of my heart, she sleeps at last. O kind Earth, wrap her round in your brown shawl, Sing soft to her and rock her in your arms, So she'll not be lonesome after me at all.
I hear the childher laugh as they run past, They see their mother watching at the door; It's long I'll wait beside the lonely hearth, For there's sorra child of mine will cross the floor.
0 thorn trees round her grave, now let you cast Your snow upon the place she takes her rest. The while I stay and cheat my heart with dreams, That I'm holding her again upon my breast.
W. M. LETTS.
* When the blackthorn blossoms are falling the country 'people call it Easter snow,
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