  P ut your head, darling, darling, darling, Your darling black head my heart above; Oh, mouth of honey, with the thyme for fragrance, Who, with heart in breast, could deny you love? Oh, many and many a young girl for me is pining, Letting her locks of gold to the cold wind free, For me, the foremost of our gay young fellows; But I'd leave a hundred, pure love, for thee! Then put your head, darling, darling, darling, Your darling black head my heart above; Oh, mouth of honey, with the thyme for fragrance, Who, with heart in breast, could deny you love? Sir Samuel Ferguson. FOOTNOTES: |
|
