Thomas Ashe Poems

CAME, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,
   In white, to find her lover;
The grass grew proud beneath her feet,
   The green elm-leaves above her:--
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When Christ spake peace to His, save only one,
And he believed not till he look'd upon
The nail-hurt hands, and feet that many a tear
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Come, spring, and bring the flowers again,
And plant the primrose by the brook:
Let love not languish at a look;
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YOU must be sad; for though it is to Heaven,
'Tis hard to yield a little girl of seven.
Alas, for me 'tis hard my grief to rule,
Who only met her as she went to school;
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