Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
MaureenJohn Todhunter (18391916)
O,
Girl of my choice, Maureen!
Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies,
Maureen?
White rose of the West, Maureen:
For it ’s pale you are, and the fear that ’s on you is over me too,
Maureen!
Bride of my dreams, Maureen:
The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say,
Maureen!
Mavourneen, my own Maureen!
When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm’s embrace,
Maureen!
My one true love, Maureen!
And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree,
Maureen!