The golden hair, the forehead thin,
The chaste mien, the gracious ease,
The rounded heel, the languid tone,
Fools alone find death from these.
Thy sharp wit, thy perfect calm,
Thy thin palm like foam of sea;
Thy white neck, thy blue eye,
I shall not die for thee.
Woman, graceful as the swan,
A wise man did nurture me,
Little palm, white neck, bright eye,
I shall not die for ye.
Douglas Hyde
RIDDLES
From the Irish
A great, great house it is,
A golden candlestick it is,
Guess it rightly,
Let it not go by thee.
Heaven.
There's a garden that I ken,
Full of little gentlemen,
Little caps of blue they wear,
And green ribbons very fair.
Flax.
He comes to ye amidst the brine
The butterfly of the sun,
The man of the coat so blue and fine,
With red thread his shirt is done.
A Lobster.
You see it come in on the shoulders of men,
Like a thread of the silk it will leave us again.
Turf.