Poor, frightened, fluttered, silent one! If we had seen your nest of clay We would have passed it by, and gone, Nor frightened you away. For there are others guard a nest From hawk and kite and lurking foe, And more despair is in their breast Than you can ever know. Shield the nests where'er they be, On the ground or on the tree; Guard the poor from treachery. THE GOMBEEN-MAN I put the sky into my pocket, And the sea into my locket, And into my breeches-band I put the land. So I was trotting off to share, Among my comrades in the lair, Our profits, when a peeler came And took my name. And now I'm in the County Gaol! Will anybody be my bail? Will anybody be my bail And take me from the County Gaol? BERESFORD PLACE The man who has and does not give Shall break his neck, and cease to live; But he who gives without a care Shall gather rubies from the air. AT THE FAIR The lark shall never come to say To a gombeen-man, "Good day," And the lark shall never cry To a kindly man, "Good-bye." See the greedy gombeen-man Taking everything he can From man and woman, dog and cat-- And the lark does not like that. THE FUR COAT I walked out in my Coat of Pride, I looked about on every side, And said the mountains should not be Just where they were, and that the sea Was badly placed, and that the beech Should be an oak--and then from each I turned in dignity as if They were not there: I sniffed a sniff, And climbed upon my sunny shelf, And sneezed a while, and scratched myself. DUBLIN MEN A Dublin man will frown when he Hears a tale of villainy; But when a kindness you relate, He swings and whistles on the gate. O'CONNELL BRIDGE In Dublin town the people see Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously, They are finer, I declare, Than the clouds of anywhere. A swirl of blue and red and green, A stream of blinding gold, a sheen From silver hill and pearly ridge Comes each evening on the bridge. So when you walk in a field, look down, Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown, But in a city look always high And watch the beautiful clouds go by. CHARLOTTE STREET Inside a soap shop, down a lane, A big bee buzzed on a window-pane, Climbing the cold glass up and down; Bee, what brought you into town? You are tired and hungry and scarce alive, Poor old Shaggy-Tail! where's your hive? GEORGE'S STREET Listen! if but women were Half as kind as they are fair, There would be an end to all Miseries that do befall. Cloud and wind would run together In a dance of sunny weather, And the happy trees would throw Gifts to travellers below. Then the lion, meek and mild, With the lamb would, side by side, Couch him friendly, and would be Innocent of enmity.