Poem by Samuel Ferguson

The Lapful of Nuts

WHENE’ER I see soft hazel eyes
  And nut-brown curls,
I think of those bright days I spent
  Among the Limerick girls;
When up through Cratla woods I went,
  Nutting with thee;
And we plucked the glossy clustering fruit
  From many a bending tree.

Beneath the hazel boughs we sat,
  Thou, love, and I,
And the gathered nuts lay in thy lap,
  Beneath thy downcast eye;
But little we thought of the store we ’d won,
  I, love, or thou;
For our hearts were full, and we dare not own
  The love that ’s spoken now.

O, there ’s wars for willing hearts in Spain,
  And high Germanie!
And I ’ll come back, erelong, again,
  With knightly fame and fee:
And I ’ll come back, if I ever come back,
  Faithful to thee,
That sat with thy white lap full of nuts
  Beneath the hazel-tree.

1. Adieu to Brittany
2. Lament for Thomas Davis
3. Paul Veronese
4. The Downfall of the Gael
5. Grace O’Maly

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