⁂
Play, my Kathleen;
No sorrow know.
The Graces flowers
Around thee throw.
Thy little cot
They softly swing,
And bright for thee
Dawns life’s fresh spring.
For all delights
Thou hast been born;
Catch, catch wild joys,
In life’s young morn!
Thy tender years
To love devote;
While hums the world,
Love my pipe’s note.