OCR Text |
Show I SHAMROCKS You buy a pot o' shamrocks you like them for their jjrecn An' for their pleasant friendliness but know not what they meant Vhat can you know of shamrocks, you who feol not tho thrill Thoy bring of Shannon's murmurs past floworod flold and hill? You buy a pot of shamrocks, and back at them you smilo Ah, could you know and fool that they are part of Erin's islet You h&v not eyes that sco things, or you would soc tho mist That runs across Killarney when morning's morn-ing's brow is kissed; You have not oars that hoar things, or you would hear tho tone Made of a thousand memories forever sweet an' stronjr Tis but a pot o' shamrocks, a whimsy thing you buy, An' not a bit of Irish sod or broadth of Irish sky! Tho glint of Irish sunshine makes ail thai livin' croon, An' Irish rains kepi off the statns an' gave that Jowol-shoen; Would that you undorstood itl For could you understand, Thoro'd bo a bit of tromblln' each time thoy touchod your handl Your Angora would bo tremblin', your oyos bo dowy-wet. Your lioart would beat a moasuro you novor could forgot. You buy a pot o shamrocks, an' know not what thoy meant You sot thorn on tho tablo to seo their choorin' groen But should you trample on them they'd riso In graco again. Just as tho hopos rice in the hearts of women and of mon. Smilo friendly at your shamrocks, an' back at you thoy smile Ah, could you know an' feol that thoy are part of Erin's islol WILBUR D. NESBIT. Copyrisht, 1013. |