An Irish love song

In the years about twenty

(When kisses are plenty)

The love of an Irish lass fell to my fate --

So winsome and slightly,

So saucy and sprightly,

The priest was a prophet that christened her Kate.

Soft gray of the dawning,

Bright blue of the morning,

The sweet of her eye there was nothing to mate;

A nose like a fairy's,

A cheek like a cherry's,

And a smile -- well, her smile was like -- nothing but Kate.

To see her was passion,

To love her, the fashion;

What wonder my heart was unwilling to wait!

And, daring to love her,

I soon did discover

A Katharine masking as mischievous Kate.

No Katy unruly,

But Katharine, truly --

Fond, serious, patient, and even sedate;

With a glow in her gladness

That banishes sadness --

Yet stay! Should I credit the sunshine to Kate?

Love cannot outlive it,

Wealth cannot o'ergive it --

That saucy surrender she made at the gate.

O Time, be but human,

Spare the girl in the woman!

You gave me my Katharine -- leave me my Kate!