Come with me, under my coat, <br />And we will drink our fill <br />Of the milk of the white goat, <br />Or wine, if it be thy will; <br />And we will talk until <br />Talk is a truble, too, <br />Out in the side of the hill, <br />And nothing is left to do, <br />But an eye to look into an eye <br />And a hand in a hand to slip, <br />And a sigh to answer a sigh, <br />And a lip to find out a lip: <br />What if the night be black <br />And the air on the mountain chill, <br />Where the goat lies down in her track <br />And all but the fern is still! <br />Stay with me under my coat, <br />And we will drink our fill <br />Of the milk of the white goat <br />Out on the side of the hill.<br /><br />James Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-coolun/
