Poems
The Girl’s Lamentation
With grief and mourning I sit to spin;
My Love passed by, and he didn’t come in;
He passes by me, both day and night,
And carries off my poor heart’s delight.
There is a tavern in yonder town,
My Love goes there and he spends a crown;
He takes a strange girl upon his knee,
And never more gives a thought to me.
Says he, ‘We’ll wed without loss of time,
And sure our love’s but a little crime;’—
My apron-string now it’s wearing short,
And my Love he seeks other girls to court.
O with him I’d go if I had my will,
I’d follow him barefoot o’er rock and hill;
I’d never once speak of all my grief
If he’d give me a smile for my heart’s relief.
In our wee garden the rose unfolds,
With bachelor’s-buttons and marigolds;
I’ll tie no posies for dance or fair,
A willow-twig is for me to wear.
For a maid again I can never be,
Till the red rose blooms on the willow tree.
Of such a trouble I’ve heard them tell,
And now I know what it means full well.
As through the long lonesome night I lie,
I’d give the world if I might but cry;
But I mus’n’t moan there or raise my voice,
And the tears run down without any noise.
And what, O what will my mother say?
She’ll wish her daughter was in the clay.
My father will curse me to my face;
The neighbours will know of my black disgrace.
My sister’s buried three years, come Lent;
But sure we made far too much lament.
Beside her grave they still say a prayer—
I wish to God ’twas myself was there!
The Candlemas crosses hang near my bed;
To look at them puts me much in dread,
They mark the good time that’s gone and past:
It’s like this year’s one will prove the last.
The oldest cross it’s a dusty brown,
But the winter winds didn’t shake it down;
The newest cross keeps the colour bright;
When the straw was reaping my heart was light.
The reapers rose with the blink of morn,
And gaily stook’d up the yellow corn;
To call them home to the field I’d run,
Through the blowing breeze and the summer sun.
When the straw was weaving my heart was glad,
For neither sin nor shame I had,
In the barn where oat-chaff was flying round,
And the thumping flails made a pleasant sound.
Now summer or winter to me it’s one;
But oh! for a day like the time that’s gone.
I’d little care was it storm or shine,
If I had but peace in this heart of mine.
Oh! light and false is a young man’s kiss,
And a foolish girl gives her soul for this.
Oh! light and short is the young man’s blame,
And a helpless girl has the grief and shame.
To the river-bank once I thought to go,
And cast myself in the stream below;
I thought ‘twould carry us far out to sea,
Where they’d never find my poor babe and me.
Sweet Lord, forgive me that wicked mind!
You know I used to be well-inclined.
Oh, take compassion upon my state,
Because my trouble is so very great.
My head turns round with the spinning wheel,
And a heavy cloud on my eyes I feel.
But the worst of all is at my heart’s core;
For my innocent days will come back no more.
My Love passed by, and he didn’t come in;
He passes by me, both day and night,
And carries off my poor heart’s delight.
There is a tavern in yonder town,
My Love goes there and he spends a crown;
He takes a strange girl upon his knee,
And never more gives a thought to me.
Says he, ‘We’ll wed without loss of time,
And sure our love’s but a little crime;’—
My apron-string now it’s wearing short,
And my Love he seeks other girls to court.
O with him I’d go if I had my will,
I’d follow him barefoot o’er rock and hill;
I’d never once speak of all my grief
If he’d give me a smile for my heart’s relief.
In our wee garden the rose unfolds,
With bachelor’s-buttons and marigolds;
I’ll tie no posies for dance or fair,
A willow-twig is for me to wear.
For a maid again I can never be,
Till the red rose blooms on the willow tree.
Of such a trouble I’ve heard them tell,
And now I know what it means full well.
As through the long lonesome night I lie,
I’d give the world if I might but cry;
But I mus’n’t moan there or raise my voice,
And the tears run down without any noise.
And what, O what will my mother say?
She’ll wish her daughter was in the clay.
My father will curse me to my face;
The neighbours will know of my black disgrace.
My sister’s buried three years, come Lent;
But sure we made far too much lament.
Beside her grave they still say a prayer—
I wish to God ’twas myself was there!
The Candlemas crosses hang near my bed;
To look at them puts me much in dread,
They mark the good time that’s gone and past:
It’s like this year’s one will prove the last.
The oldest cross it’s a dusty brown,
But the winter winds didn’t shake it down;
The newest cross keeps the colour bright;
When the straw was reaping my heart was light.
The reapers rose with the blink of morn,
And gaily stook’d up the yellow corn;
To call them home to the field I’d run,
Through the blowing breeze and the summer sun.
When the straw was weaving my heart was glad,
For neither sin nor shame I had,
In the barn where oat-chaff was flying round,
And the thumping flails made a pleasant sound.
Now summer or winter to me it’s one;
But oh! for a day like the time that’s gone.
I’d little care was it storm or shine,
If I had but peace in this heart of mine.
Oh! light and false is a young man’s kiss,
And a foolish girl gives her soul for this.
Oh! light and short is the young man’s blame,
And a helpless girl has the grief and shame.
To the river-bank once I thought to go,
And cast myself in the stream below;
I thought ‘twould carry us far out to sea,
Where they’d never find my poor babe and me.
Sweet Lord, forgive me that wicked mind!
You know I used to be well-inclined.
Oh, take compassion upon my state,
Because my trouble is so very great.
My head turns round with the spinning wheel,
And a heavy cloud on my eyes I feel.
But the worst of all is at my heart’s core;
For my innocent days will come back no more.
Analysis (ai): The speaker confronts betrayal, societal judgment, and personal despair after being abandoned by a lover who once promised marriage. Her emotional isolation intensifies as she reflects on lost innocence and impending motherhood outside marriage. The poem traces a progression from sorrow to near-desperation, culminating in a fleeting impulse toward suicide. Religious imagery surfaces in moments of guilt, suggesting internalized moral constraints. Unlike many Victorian poems where female suffering leads to redemption or death, this speaker remains alive, bearing silent shame. Her lament resists consolation, emphasizing enduring psychological burden over resolution.
Social Critique and Gender: It underscores double standards in sexual morality, where the man faces no consequence while the woman is ruined. The line “a helpless girl has the grief and shame” directly critiques gendered accountability. Unlike the author’s lighter folk-influenced works, this poem adopts a somber tone to highlight female vulnerability. Compared to contemporaneous poems that veil female sexuality, this one openly acknowledges premarital relations and pregnancy. It diverges from the era’s tendency to idealize womanhood by presenting an unwed mother without moral condemnation.
Structure and Form: The ballad stanza form with ABCB rhyme aligns with traditional Irish and British folk models the author often used. Repetition and incremental variation mirror oral storytelling, reinforcing the speaker’s obsessive thoughts. The steady tetrameter-trimeter pattern contrasts with the emotional instability of the content, creating tension.
Dialect and Voice: The use of Hiberno-English forms like “mus’n’t” and “wasn’t” grounds the speaker in a rural Irish setting, lending authenticity and distancing her from mainstream Victorian propriety. The dialect emphasizes her social marginality and shapes the rhythm with colloquial contractions. This linguistic choice aligns with the author’s broader interest in Irish rural life, though most of his better-known poems are more nostalgic or whimsical.
Place in Author’s Oeuvre: Unlike his frequently anthologized “The Fairies,” which romanticizes childhood and escape, this poem engages directly with adult female suffering in a realistic register. It is among his longest and most psychologically intense works, standing out in his lesser-known narrative ballads for its sustained female perspective. The poem’s focus on shame and silence reflects concerns present in mid-19th-century Irish society but handled with more intimacy than in his more folkloric pieces. Its lack of resolution is unusual compared to his typical lyrical closure.
Social Critique and Gender: It underscores double standards in sexual morality, where the man faces no consequence while the woman is ruined. The line “a helpless girl has the grief and shame” directly critiques gendered accountability. Unlike the author’s lighter folk-influenced works, this poem adopts a somber tone to highlight female vulnerability. Compared to contemporaneous poems that veil female sexuality, this one openly acknowledges premarital relations and pregnancy. It diverges from the era’s tendency to idealize womanhood by presenting an unwed mother without moral condemnation.
Structure and Form: The ballad stanza form with ABCB rhyme aligns with traditional Irish and British folk models the author often used. Repetition and incremental variation mirror oral storytelling, reinforcing the speaker’s obsessive thoughts. The steady tetrameter-trimeter pattern contrasts with the emotional instability of the content, creating tension.
Dialect and Voice: The use of Hiberno-English forms like “mus’n’t” and “wasn’t” grounds the speaker in a rural Irish setting, lending authenticity and distancing her from mainstream Victorian propriety. The dialect emphasizes her social marginality and shapes the rhythm with colloquial contractions. This linguistic choice aligns with the author’s broader interest in Irish rural life, though most of his better-known poems are more nostalgic or whimsical.
Place in Author’s Oeuvre: Unlike his frequently anthologized “The Fairies,” which romanticizes childhood and escape, this poem engages directly with adult female suffering in a realistic register. It is among his longest and most psychologically intense works, standing out in his lesser-known narrative ballads for its sustained female perspective. The poem’s focus on shame and silence reflects concerns present in mid-19th-century Irish society but handled with more intimacy than in his more folkloric pieces. Its lack of resolution is unusual compared to his typical lyrical closure.
William Allingham (19 March 1824 – 18 November 1889) was an Irish poet, diarist and editor. He wrote several volumes of lyric verse, and his poem “The Faeries” was much anthologised. But he is better known for his posthumously published Diary, in which he records his lively encounters with Tennyson, Carlyle and other writers and artists. His wife, Helen Allingham, was a well-known artist, watercolourist and illustrator.
