Molly bawn, white as lawn, Rosy as the rowan spray, Had us all in her thrall, Young and old, and grave and gay; For her glances through the dances Such fond fancies o'er us shed, None felt sure he struck the floor With his heels or with his head. Molly bawn, white as lawn, Sweeter than the sugar cane, Drops her eyes at the boys, Never glancing back again. Some say shyness 'tis or coyness, And 'tis fineness some believe; But at all, great and small, I'm just laughing in my sleeve. For there's none 'neath the sun But myself could tell you why Molly seems lost in dreams When the saucy lads go by. But that reason out of season 'Twould be treason now to show; After Lent I'm content Father Tom and all should know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROOM OF MIRRORS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A CORN SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES by ROBERT HERRICK TOM'S GARLAND: UPON THE UNEMPLOYED by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SNAKE by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL; MIRIAM'S SONG by THOMAS MOORE |