Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
John Todhunter. 1839–1916814. Maureen
| O, YOU plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes, | |
| Girl of my choice, Maureen! | |
| Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies, | |
| Maureen? | |
| Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo, | 5 |
| White rose of the West, Maureen: | |
| For it ‘s pale you are, and the fear that ‘s on you is over me too, | |
| Maureen! | |
| Sure it ‘s one complaint that ‘s on us, asthore, this day, | |
| Bride of my dreams, Maureen: | 10 |
| The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say, | |
| Maureen! | |
| I’ll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face, | |
| Mavourneen, my own Maureen! | |
| When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm’s embrace, | 15 |
| Maureen! | |
| O where was the King o’ the World that day—only me? | |
| My one true love, Maureen! | |
| And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree, | |
| Maureen! | 20 |