  “Blow, blow, thou wind, Blow Conrad’s hat away, Its rolling do not stay, Till I have combed my hair, And tied it up behind.” Blow, blow, thou wind, Blow Conrad’s love away, My prince will come to-day. Let him but find me fair, And searching find. The queen my mother grieves For hopes that went astray. Blow thou my grief away, Among the April flags, Among the dancing leaves. Fill thou their golden wings, And make the great clouds fly Like swans across the sky, Above the mountain crags Where the young eaglet clings. Blow—yet the mad wind dies Among the flags and ferns. And Conrad still returns, Ere I have bound my hair, Or dried my eyes. Blow, blow, thou wind— Blow Conrad’s love away. But since it will not stay, Blow thou afar my care And make me kind. As even, lad, thou art. Blow, blow, thou wind, but since Vainly I wait the prince Come, Conrad, loose my hair,— Thou loyal heart! |
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