Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
I. AdmirationThe Irish Spinning-Wheel
Alfred Perceval Graves (18461931)S
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
Oh no!
Nothing you ’ll show
Aquals her sittin’ an’ takin’ a whirl at it.
Night in her hair,
The blue ray of day from her eye laughin’ out on us!
Faix, an’ a foot,
Perfect of cut,
Peepin’ to put an end to all doubt in us.
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it—
Oh no!
Nothin’ you ’ll show
Aquals her sittin’ an’ takin’ a twirl at it.
Turns coarse an’ dull
By them soft, beautiful weeshy white hands of her.
Down goes her heel,
Roun’ runs the wheel,
Purrin’ wid pleasure to take the commands of her.
Bates for delight
An ould Irish wheel wid a young Irish girl at it.
Oh no!
Nothin’ you ’ll show
Aquals her sittin’ an’ takin’ a twirl at it.
Seated on sates,
Spinnin’ and shearin’ away till they ’ve done for me!
You may want three
For your massacree,
But one Fate for me, boys—and only the one for me!
Pictured complate—
An ould Irish wheel with a young Irish girl at it?
Oh no!
Nothin’ you ’ll show
Aquals her sittin’ and takin’ a twirl at it.