A Broadside: No. 12 Sixth Year
Title
A Broadside: No. 12 Sixth Year
Subject
Ireland
Cuala Press
A Broadside
Irish Literary Revival
The Gaelic Revival
Description
PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY E. C. YEATS AT THE CUALA PRESS, CHURCHTOWN, DUNDRUM, COUNTY DUBLIN. SUBSCRIPTION TWELVE SHILLINGS A YEAR POST FREE.
300 copies only.
300 copies only.
The woodcut on page [3] has caption: "ROULETTE". Signed by Jack B. Yeats.
Creator
E. C. Yeats
Jack B. Yeats
Publisher
Cuala Press
Date
May, 1914
Text
THE LOVE-SICK MAID
The winter it is past,
And the summer's coming at last,
And the small birds sing on every tree;
The hearts of those are glad,
Whilst mine is very sad,
Whilst my true love is absent from me.
I'll put on my cap of black,
And fringe about my neck,
And rings on my fingers I'll wear;
All this I'll undertake,
For my true lover's sake,
For he rides at the Curragh of Kildare.
A livery I'll wear,
And I'll comb down my hair,
And I'll dress in the vlevet so green;
Straightways I will repair
To the Curragh of Kildare,
And 'tis there I will get tidings of him.
With patience she did wait,
Till they ran for the plate,
In thinking young Johnston to see;
But Fortune proved unkind
TO that sweetheart of mine,
For he'd gone to Lurgan for me.
I should not think it strange,
The wild world for to range,
If I could obtain my heart's delight;
But here in Cupid's chains
I'm obliged to remain,
Whilst in tears do I spend the whole night.
My love is like the sun,
that in the firmament doth run,
Which is always constant and true;
But yours is like the moon,
That doth wander up and down,
And in every month it's new.
All you that are in love,
And cannot it remove,
For you pitied are by me;
Experience makes me know
That your heart is full of woe,
Since my true love is absent from me.
Farewell, my joy and heart,
Since you and I must part,
You are the fairest that e'er I did see;
And I never do design
For to alter my mind,
Although you are below my degree.
The winter it is past,
And the summer's coming at last,
And the small birds sing on every tree;
The hearts of those are glad,
Whilst mine is very sad,
Whilst my true love is absent from me.
I'll put on my cap of black,
And fringe about my neck,
And rings on my fingers I'll wear;
All this I'll undertake,
For my true lover's sake,
For he rides at the Curragh of Kildare.
A livery I'll wear,
And I'll comb down my hair,
And I'll dress in the vlevet so green;
Straightways I will repair
To the Curragh of Kildare,
And 'tis there I will get tidings of him.
With patience she did wait,
Till they ran for the plate,
In thinking young Johnston to see;
But Fortune proved unkind
TO that sweetheart of mine,
For he'd gone to Lurgan for me.
I should not think it strange,
The wild world for to range,
If I could obtain my heart's delight;
But here in Cupid's chains
I'm obliged to remain,
Whilst in tears do I spend the whole night.
My love is like the sun,
that in the firmament doth run,
Which is always constant and true;
But yours is like the moon,
That doth wander up and down,
And in every month it's new.
All you that are in love,
And cannot it remove,
For you pitied are by me;
Experience makes me know
That your heart is full of woe,
Since my true love is absent from me.
Farewell, my joy and heart,
Since you and I must part,
You are the fairest that e'er I did see;
And I never do design
For to alter my mind,
Although you are below my degree.
Original Format
Broadside
Files
Collection
Citation
E. C. Yeats and Jack B. Yeats, “A Broadside: No. 12 Sixth Year,” Linda Lear Center Digital Collections and Exhibitions, accessed April 25, 2024, https://lc-digital.conncoll.edu/items/show/1418.