MERRY, lark-like, merry, <br /> At the break of day, <br />Polly meeteth Harry <br /> Coming down the way; <br />And her lips, they quiver, <br />When her eyes discover <br />Smiles that speak—ah never <br /> Peace unto the May. <br /> <br />Merry, blythe and merry, <br /> 'Neath the noontide ray, <br />Polly meeteth Harry <br /> Coming up the way <br />And his accents put her <br />Fond heart in a flutter— <br />And no tongue can utter <br /> What her looks betray. <br /> <br />Merry, yet so merry, <br /> At the close of day, <br />Polly spyeth Harry <br /> Wooing Ely Gray! <br />And when this she spyeth, <br />Lo! her reason dieth, <br />And her heart rent, cryeth <br /> 'Woe, and well-a-day!'<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/polly-and-harry/
