Mary Eliza Ireland Poems

Hard were her hands, and brown;
Coarsest of stuff her gown:
Sod hut her home.
Pale was her care-worn face,
...

Postman, good postman, halt I pray,
And leave a letter for me to-day;
If it's only a line from over the sea
To say that my Sandy remembers me.
...

She is lying in state, this fair June day,
While the bee from the rose its sweetness sips;
Her heart thrills not at the lark's clear lay,
...

gave her a rose, so sweet, so fair;
She picked it to pieces while standing there.
...

A bachelor gray, was Valentine Brown;
He lived in a mansion just out of the town,
A mansion spacious and grand;
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We grow in grace if day by day
We keep in mind to watch and pray,
Thus walking in the Heavenward way.
...