uldy,
A huge black coffin open wide:
He asks for your soul, Wolfe O'Driscoll,
Who is calling at the door outside."

"Who let him thro' the gates of my gardens,
Where stronger bolts have never been?"
"'Twas the father of the fair little maiden
You drove to her grave so green."

"And who let him pass through the courtyard,
By loosening the bar and the chain?"
"Oh, who but the brother of the maiden,
Who lies in the cold and the rain!"

"Then who drew the bolts at the portal,
And into my house bade him go?"
"She, the mother of the poor young maiden,
Who lies in her youth so low."

"Who stands, that he dare not enter,
The door of my chamber, between?"
"O, the ghost of the fair little maiden,
Who lies in the churchyard green."

AT CHRISTMAS TIME

For that old love I once adored
I decked my halls and spread my board
At Christmas time.
With all the winter's flowers that grow
I wreathed my room, and mistletoe
Hung in the gloom of my doorway,
Wherein my dear lost love might stray
When joy-bells chime.

What phantom was it entered there
And drank his wine and took his chair
At Christmas time?
With holly boughs and mistletoe
He crowned his head, and at my woe
And tears I shed laughed long and loud;
"Get back, O phantom! to thy shroud
When joy-bells chime."

A WEEPING CUPID

Why love! I thought you were gay and fair,
Merry of mien and debonair.
What then means this brow so black,
Whose sullen gloom twin eyes give back,
Poor little god in tears, alack!

Why love! I thought in your smiling cheek
Dainty dimples played hide and seek;
Passing by like a winter's night,
With stormy sighs from lips all white.
Poor little god, how comes your plight?

A maiden said you were tall and bold,
With an arm of steel and a heart of gold;
Whose changing face would make her day;
When came a frown, the sunshine play
Of smiles would chase the clouds away.

A youth once said you were like a maid
With sunny hair in a golden braid;
Whose cheeks were each a rose uncurled;
And brow a lilybell unfurled;
The fairest maid in all the world.

Why love! I find you so weak and small,
A human child, not a god at all;
Two angry, sleepy eyes that cry,
Two little hands so soft and shy,