John Francis Waller

John Francis Waller Poems

John Francis Waller Biography

John Francis Waller (1810 - 1894) was an Irish poet and editor. He was born at Limerick, educated at Trinity College, Dublin and was called to the Irish Bar in 1833. He became a contributor to and ultimately editor of the Dublin University Magazine, usually writing under the pseudonym of "Jonathan Freke Slingsby". He published several volumes of poems and also wrote popular songs, including Cushla Ma Chree, The Spinning Wheel and Song of the Glass. He was responsible for the explanatory notes and a life of the author in a new edition of "Gulliver's Travels" written by Dean Jonathan Swift. He held the position of vice-president of the Royal Irish Academy and was appointed Registrar of the Rolls Court in 1867)

The Best Poem Of John Francis Waller

Kitty Neil

“Ah, sweet Kitty Neil, rise up from that wheel,
   Your neat little foot will be weary from spinning;
Come trip down with me to the sycamore tree,
   Half the parish is there, and the dance is beginning.
The sun is gone down, but the full harvest-moon        
   Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whiten’d valley,
While all the air rings with the soft, loving things
   Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley.”

With a blush and a smile Kitty rose up the while,
   Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair, glancing;      
’T is hard to refuse when a young lover sues,
   So the could n’t but choose to—go off to the dancing.
And now on the green the glad groups are seen,
   Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosing;
And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil,—      
   Somehow, when he ask’d, she ne’er thought of refusing.

Now, Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee,
   And with flourish so free sets each couple in motion;
With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the ground,
   The maids move around just like swans on the ocean:        
Cheeks bright as the rose—feet light as the doe’s,
   Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing—
Search the world all round, from the sky to the ground,
   No such sight can be found as an Irish lass dancing!

Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue,        
   Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly,
Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form,
   Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly;
Young Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart,
   Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love;        
The sight leaves his eye, as he cries with a sigh,
 
“Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love!”

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