And you’re settled down, we’ll try—
What? The deuce you say! Rejected?
You rejected?—So was I.
IRISH CASTLES
By Fitz-James O’Brien
“Sweet Norah, come here, and look into the fire;
Maybe in its embers good luck we might see;
But don’t come too near, or your glances so shining,
Will put it clean out, like the sunbeams, machree!
“Just look ’twixt the sods, where so brightly they’re burning,