C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Robert William Chambers (1865–1933)

Eily Considine

AT the barrack gate she sits,

Eily Considine;

Now she dozes, now she knits,

While the sunshine, through the slits

In the trellised trumpet-vine,

Warms old Eily Considine—

Warms her heart that long ago

Set the Regiment aglow!

Sweeter colleen ne’er was seen

Than Eileen;

Lips that flamed like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—

Is that you,

Selling apples

Where the golden sunlight dapples,

Eily Considine?

I remember your first beau,

Eily Considine;

That was years ago, I know.

Do you ever think of Stowe—

Stowe, lieutenant in the line—

Shot by Sioux in ’59?

Do you sometimes think of Gray?

I can almost hear him say:—

“Sweeter colleen ne’er was seen

Than Eileen;

Lips that flame like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—”

Is that you,

Selling apples

Where the golden sunlight dapples,

Eily Considine?

First came Fairfax of the Staff,

Eily Considine:

You forgave him with a laugh—

You’re too generous by half.

Years ago he died—’twas wine

Killed him, Eily Considine—

Killed him—’twas a death of shame,

Yet in death he cried your name!

Sweeter colleen ne’er was seen

Than Eileen;

Lips of flame, like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—

Is that you,

Selling apples

Where the golden sunlight dapples,

Eily Considine?

If you wept when Fairfax left,

Eily Considine,

Surely Donaldson was deft

To console a soul bereft

In so very brief a time—

Lonely Eily Considine.

After Donaldson came Hurse;

He it was who wrote this verse:—

“Sweeter colleen ne’er was seen

Than Eileen;

Lips that flame like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—”

Is that you,

Selling apples

Where the golden sunlight dapples,

Eily Considine?

Santa Anna settled Hurse,

Eily Considine;

Then it went from bad to worse.

Yet if loving was your curse,

Bless me with this curse divine,—

Bless me, Eily Considine!

Phantom dim of long ago,

Misty, faint, and sweet—I know

Sweeter colleen ne’er was seen

Than Eileen;

Lips that flamed like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—

Is that you,

Selling apples

Where the golden sunlight dapples,

Eily Considine?

At the barrack gate she sits,

Eily Considine;

Now she dozes, now she knits,

And the sunshine through the slits

In the trellised trumpet-vine

Falls on Eily Considine,

On her thin hair, silver-bright;—

God may wash her soul as white.

Sweeter colleen ne’er was seen

Than Eileen;

Lips that flamed like scarlet wine,

Eyes of azure, smile divine—

Peace to you

Selling apples

Where the golden sunlight dapples,

Eily Considine!

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