Come with me, under my coat, And we will drink our fill Of the milk of the white goat, Or wine if it be thy will; And we will talk until Talk is a trouble, too, Out on the side of the hill, And nothing is left to do, But an eye to look into an eye And a hand in a hand to slip, And a sigh to answer a sigh, And a lip to find out a lip: What if the night be black And the air on the mountain chill, Where the goat lies down in her track And all but the fern is still! Stay with me, under my coat, And we will drink our fill Of the milk of the white goat Out on the side of the hill. 

 

 

 PEGGY MITCHELL 

 As lily grows up easily, In modest, gentle dignity To sweet perfection, So grew she, As easily. 

 Or as the rose that takes no care Will open out on sunny air Bloom after bloom, fair after fair, Sweet after sweet; Just so did she, As carelessly. 

 She is our torment without end, She is our enemy and friend, Our joy, our woe; And she will send Madness or glee To you and me, And endlessly. 

 

 

 NANCY WALSH 

 I, without bite or sup, If thou wert fated for me, I would up And would go after thee Through mountains. 

 A thousand thanks from me To God have gone, Because I have not lost my senses to thee, Though it was hardly I escaped from thee, O ringleted one! 

 

 

 THE RED MAN'S WIFE 

 Then she arose And walked in the valley In her fine clothes. 

 After great fire Great frost Comes following. 

 Turgesius was lost By the daughter of Maelsheachlin The King. 

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