Chapter IV

Thin next day, whin they’d gone to the dinner, Kate showed me the grandeur they’d got
Settled out in the library; all of her presents, a terrible lot.
Sure, I couldn’t be tellin’ ye half, let alone nigh the whole o’ the things.
There was wan o’ the tables was covered wid bracelets an’ brooches, an’ rings;
An’ the big silver plates did be shinin’ like so many moons thro’ the mist;
An’ the jugs wid their insides pure gold, an’ the taypots, an’ urns, an’ the rist.
But the iligant chiney--och saints! the wee cups wid their handles all gilt,
An’ their paintin’s o’ flower-wrathes an’ birds--if ye’d break wan, bedad, ye’d be kilt.
An’ the jewels, och, the jewels was that purty, I’d ha’ sted there star-gazin’ all night;
There was diaminds like raindhrops that each had a fire-sparkle somehow alight,
An’ the pearls like as if they’d been stringin’ the bits o’ round hailstones for beads,
An’ the red wans an’ green, if a rainbow was sowin’ ye’d take thim for seeds;
An’ the grand little boxes to hold thim, all lined wid smooth satin below--
‘Sure, it’s well to be her, Kate,’ sez I, an’ sez she, ‘Och, begorra, that’s so.’