The night sinks softly on the plain,

The heifer's bell is still;

A lone pipe calls with magic strain—

The girl leans on the sill.

"Here on the prairie I am alone;

My cows and horses rest;"

The young girl to the plain has gone

With longing in her breast.

The master's herd is moving slow;

The young girl follows on;

Dear shepherd, spread your soft cloak now

The dewy earth upon."

The wheat has not filled out its ear,

But birds have picked the grain;

"See, mother, in the early year,

How love has brought me pain."

"My daughter, I will curse your name,

If you the shepherd wed."

"Mother, I'll bear your fiercest blame,

My heart will rest his head."