by Moses Teggart, Springfield, Mass. U.S.A.

Loose locks - black as the raven,
The wind delights to blow
About her pulsing temples -
White as the driven snow.
And moon-white in its beauty -
Where'er I go or stray,
The sweet face of Lillian Martin
It haunts me night and day.

Glad when on me she glances, 
And saddened when I see
Her silken-soft eyelashes
Love's dawning hide from me.
Like stars forever beaming,
On life's grief-trodden way,
The gray eyes of Lillian Martin
Are shining night and day.
Spirits unseen around me 
Strike fancy's finest strings,
And still at tender twilight
Play the divinest things.
Though these oft give me pleasure,
And sweet it is is they play
The loved voice of lillian Martin
I hear it night and day.

Above the dark-brown water
The lily hods her hands;
When day stoops down to kiss them,
The star-flower understands.
The tremulous water-lilies,
Though much beloved are they -
The white hands of Lillian Martin
I kiss them night and day.
The leaves - how light they rustle!
How sweet they dance along
When brown October's breezes
Break into mirth and song!
O mild autumnal music - 
In my heart, no longer gay,
The light feet of Lillian Martin
Are dancing night and day.

So charming is her manner 
So sweet her winning ways,
She has a hundred lovers
All proud to sing her praise,
And one - a friendly stranger,
Full oft I hear him say,
"For the love of Lillian martin
I'm dying night and day."


The Belle of Clonmakate

The Belle of Derryagh

The Belle of Derrykeevin

A Birches Boy

Bonnie Mary of Drumcree

Coney Island

Dead at The Birches

Down in Maghery


The Lily of Lough Neagh

The Turf Bummer

The Turf Cutter

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