Роберт Дуайер Джойс (Robert Dwyer Joyce)

Sweet Imokilly

I MET, within the greenwood wild,
  My own true knight, that loved me dearly,
When summer airs blew soft and mild,
  And linnets sang, and waves rolled clearly;
And, O, we pledged such loving vows
  In moss-grown glade, all green and rilly,
Where lightly waved the rustling boughs
  Of thy green woods, sweet Imokilly!

I met my love in festive hall,
  Mid lords, and knights, and warriors fearless,
And there my love among them all
  To my fond heart was ever peerless:
And he was fond, and time could ne’er
  His love for me make cold and chilly;
Ah! then I knew nor grief nor care
  Mid thy green woods, sweet Imokilly!

From Rincrew’s turrets, high and hoar,
  When autumn floods were wildly sweeping,
I saw my love ride to the shore,
  I saw him in the torrent leaping,
To meet me ’neath the twilight dim,
  In bowery nook, secure and stilly;
But the ruthless waters swallowed him,
  By thy green woods, sweet Imokilly!

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