Golden haired and golden heartedI would ever have you be,
As you were when last we
Smiling slow and sad at me.
Oh! the fighting down of passion!
Oh! the century-seeming pain-Parting in this off-hand
In Dungarvan in the rain.
Slanting eyes of blue,
Stands my Swedish beauty
Gusts of Irish rain are
Round the statue in the square;
Corner boys against the
Watch us furtively in vain,
And the Angelus is
Through Dungarvan in the rain.
Gales along the Commeragh Mountains,
Beating sleet on creaking signs,
Iron gutters turned to fountains,
And the windscreen laced with lines,
And the evening getting later,
And the ache - increased again,
As the distance grows the
From Dungarvan in the rain.
There is no one now to
What eccentric sits in
While the beech trees rock and
Round his gate-lodge and his gate.
Gone - the ornamental plaster,
Gone - the overgrown
And the car goes fast, and faster,
From Dungarvan in the rain.
Had I kissed and drawn you to
Had you yielded warm for cold,
What a power had pounded through
As I stroked your streaming gold!
You were right to keep us parted:
Bound and parted we remain,
Aching, if unbroken hearted -Oh!
Dungarvan in the rain!
