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A Celtic Psaltery by Alfred Perceval Graves
page 25 of 205 (12%)
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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