The wind may blow the snow about,
For all I care, says Jack,
And I don’t mind how cold it grows,
For then the ice won’t crack.
To-day upon thy ruined walls
The flowers wave flags of truce,
For time has proved thy conqueror,
And tamed thy strength, Dunluce!
A blushing wild pink rose,
By tangled woods and ways,
A passing sweet that goes
With summer days.
High at the window in her cage,
The old canary sits and sings,
Nor sees across the curtain pass
The shadow of a swallow's wings.
The clouds look low and heavy, as if there would be rain,
It always means bad weather when you hear the brook so plain.
More than a hundred years ago
They raised for her this little stone;
'Miss Polly Townsend, aged nine,'
It says, is sleeping here alone
Dear Polly, these are joyful days!
Your feet can choose their own sweet ways;
You have no care of anything.
Free as a swallow on the wing,
Down in a field, one day in June,
The flowers all bloomed together,
Oh, rest your oars and let me drift
While all the stars come out to see!
The birds are talking in their sleep
As we go by so silently.