  This weariness, this gnawing pain, Are moving greatly through my brain; The tears down-dropping from my eyes, The full of my two shoes with sighs. I think the Sunday long, and pray You may come stepping down my way; Twice over I my lover lack,— When he departs—till he come back. My thousand treasures and my love, At break of summer let us rove, And watch the flickering twilight dwell Above the windings of the dell. I claim no gift of cows and sheep; But if I ask of thee to keep My hand within thy circling arm, Where were the harm? where were the harm? Farewell! Farewell! the fading light, Would that last night were still to-night! Would that my darling, with his smile, Would coax me to his knee awhile! Bend down and hear, my tale I'll tell, Could you but keep my secret well: I fear my lover's gone from me; O God and Mary, can this be? |
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