KILMENY looked up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny’s face; As still was her look, and as still was her ee,

As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea,

Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea,

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Such beauty bard may never declare, For there was no pride nor passion there; Her seymar was the lily flower, And her check the moss-rose in the shower; And her voice like the distant melodye That floats along the twilight sea.” -THB QUIBN’S WAKE