“
O, she walked unaware of her own increasing beautyThat was holding men's thoughts from market or plough,
— Patrick MacDonogh
O, she walked unaware of her own increasing beautyThat was holding men's thoughts from market or plough,
God pity me now and all desolate sinnersDemented with beauty!
To-night she will spread her brown hair on his pillow,But I shall be hearing the harsh cries of wild fowl.
