  MY lady of the golden heart, she comes each day Down by the lodge-gate that I keep; she comes demurely, And her two hounds sedate do follow and obey Her slightest wish, and they do love my lady surely. She comes each day, my lady of the golden heart, Sometimes a-riding or sometimes she comes a-walking; The birds along the hedge they do not even start When she comes by, sometimes to her big hounds a-talking. “Good morrow” says my lady, (she whose heart is gold), And gold out of her heart makes bright the gateway; The sunshine of her face in winter time does hold Green meadows and sweet flowers and makes a summer straightway. My lady, she whose heart is gold, my lady goes Each day into the village, bread and good wine bearing To those that sick be, and my gentle lady knows All of the village folk and for them she be caring. Now as she comes each day, (gold is my lady’s heart), Or goes away upon some errand Heaven has sent her, The gates of my poor heart, they do fly far apart. But there my lady fair and sweet, she will not enter. |
|
