A Celtic Psaltery by Alfred Perceval Graves
page 25 of 205 (12%)
page 25 of 205 (12%)
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A strong man at a sick man poking fun;
A wise man gibing at a foolish one. Three signs that show a fop: the comb-track on his hair; The track of his nice teeth upon his nibbled fare; His cane-track on the dust, oft as he takes the air. Three sparks that light the fire of love are these-- Glamour of face, and grace, and speech of ease. Three steadinesses of wise womanhood-- steady tongue through evil, as through good; A steady chastity, whoso else shall stray; Steady house service, all and every day. Three sounds of increase: kine that low, When milk unto their calves they owe; The hammer on the anvil's brow, The pleasant swishing of the plough. Three sisters false: I would! I might! I may! Three fearful brothers: Hearken! Hush! and Stay! Three coffers of a depth unknown Are his who occupies the throne, The Church's, and the privileged Poet's own. Three glories of a gathering free from strife-- Swift hound, proud steed, and beautiful young wife. |
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