The Meeting

I' D niver seen the face av her;
And she knew naught av me.
She'd fared that day from Shela Hills,
And I'd swung in from sea.

It may have been the warm, soft night,
The soft and moitherin' moon!
It may have been the lonely streets
And the ould sea's lonely chune!

It may have all been doomed, in faith,
For many an' many a year,
That soft and mad and wishtful night
Without a laugh or tear!

She helt me face betwixt her hands
And out av wishtful eyes
For long she watched me sunburnt face
Wid wonder and surprise.

For long against her quiet breast
She helt me throubled head;
And when I kisst her shmilin' mouth,
"Ye'll ne'er come back!" she said.

And out she fared to Shela Hills,
And I swung back to sea:
But och, the ache and loneliness
That wan night left wid me!