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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Sir Samuel Ferguson (1810–1886)

Molly Asthore

O MARY dear! O Mary fair!

O branch of generous stem!

White blossom of the banks of Nair,

Though lilies grow on them,—

You’ve left me sick at heart for love,

So faint I cannot see;

The candle swims the board above,

I’m drunk for love of thee!

O stately stem of maiden pride,

My woe it is and pain

That I thus severed from thy side

The long night must remain.

Through all the towns of Innisfail

I’ve wandered far and wide:

But from Downpatrick to Kinsale,

From Carlow to Kilbride,—

Many lords and dames of high degree,—

Where’er my feet have gone,

My Mary, one to equal thee

I never looked upon.

I live in darkness and in doubt

Whene’er my love’s away;

But were the gracious sun put out,

Her shadow would make day.

’Tis she, indeed, young bud of bliss,

As gentle as she’s fair.

Though lily-white her bosom is,

And sunny bright her hair,

And dewy azure her blue eye,

And rosy red her cheek,

Yet brighter she in modesty,

Most beautifully meek.

The world’s wise men from north to south

Can never cure my pain;

But one kiss from her honey mouth

Would make me well again.