Gay balloons and coloured streamers,
Gliding figures, footsteps light,
Flannelled youths and short-frocked maidens
Jazzing gaily through the night.
Music quaint and queer and catchy,
Lilting cadence of the band,
—Tis a scene of harmless frolic.
Youth and pleasure hand in hand.
Laughter, frank and merry hearted,
Careless banter — burst of song-
—While the red, red robin
Goes bob-bob-bobbin—
Goes bob-bob-bobbin— along!â?

Small Miss Anne is sitting, dreaming
In the vine-clad window-seat
Listening to the lilting music,
To the trip of dancing feet,
But her vision sees a ballroom
Where the swaying lanterns glow
Over maidens in flowing muslins,
Courteous gallants bowing low.
Hear the cooing flutes and violins,
—Tis a waltz song sweet and old-
—Glide along, oh river,
Where the willows quiver,
Glide along for ever
O—er thy sands of gold.â?

Ah, the cruel, gleaming river
That can sweep young lives away,
Gone, long gone the youthful lover,
Closed the boyish eyes of grey.
But the old heart-wound is throbbing
As she dreams, with cheeks aglow,
Of a dew-drenched, fragrant garden
Where the river breezes blow
Over beds of phlox and pansy,
Waxen jasmine, while and cold-
—There amid the gloaming
Lover true are roaming
Hand in hand in Love—s dreamland,
Where fond hearts ne—er grow old.â?

Soft and clear the rippling music
Steals into a chamber nigh
Where the dear Old Irish grandma
Waits her summons from on High,
Ready for the great adventure
Is her gently child-like soul,
For the grand old Faith upholds her,
And her life—s long simple scroll
Is a screed of shining whiteness;
But just now her old eyes glow
As, like dancing, flickering turf-fires,
Long-lost memories come and go-
—When the boys began to gather
In the glen of a summer night,
And the Kerry pipers tuning
Made us long with a wild delight.�

Like the horns of elf-land blowing,
Rings the distant pipers— tune,
Laughter gay of lads and colleens
Underneath the harvest moon.
To the —wind that shook the barleyâ?
Tripped their glancing footsteps fleet,
Ah! Did you dance light, dear Grandma
On the hearts beneath your feet?
On the daisy spangled greensward
—Neath the hawthorn hedge abloom-
—Ah! The days of Kerry dancing
Oh! The lilt of the pipers— tune.