Eliza Cook ( )

St. Patricks Day

St. Patricks Day! St. Patricks Day!
Oh! thou tormenting Irish lay
Ive got thee buzzing in my brain,
And cannot turn thee out again.
Oh, mercy! music may be bliss
But not in such a shape as this,
When all I do, and all I say,
Begins and ends in Patrickss Day.

Had it but been in opera shape,
Italian squall, or German scrape,
Fresh from the bow of Paganini,
Or caught from Weber of Rossini,
One would not care so muchbut, oh!
The sad plebeian shame to know
An old blind fiddler bore away
My senses with St. Patricks Day.

I take up Burke in hopes to chase
The plaguing phantom from its place;
But all in vainattention wavers
From classic lore to triplet quavers;
An Essay on the great Sublime
Sounds strangely set in six-eight time.
Down goes the book, read how I may,
The words will flow to Patricks Day.

Eliza Cook's other poems:
  1. Galla Brae
  2. The Thames
  3. Song of the Sailor Boy
  4. Loch Levens Gentle Stream
  5. Grey-Eyed Mabel

Poems of another poets with the same name ( ):

  • Jean Blewett ( ) St. Patricks Day ("Theres an Isle, a green Isle, set in the sea")

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    : 1121

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