 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
That company is now dispersed;
With laughter trembling ón their gentle lips.
Some laughed so long, they laughed them out of breath.
A merry flock is parted from the rest,
Whom Lady Misselden leads: they with her trace,
The freshing air to breathe on open heath.
With laughter trembling ón their gentle lips.
Some laughed so long, they laughed them out of breath.
A merry flock is parted from the rest,
Whom Lady Misselden leads: they with her trace,
The freshing air to breathe on open heath.
Each bears, in her white hand, a marguerite:
And each one seemeth, as they speed forth, a Grace.
All carolling chant, as hollow and hill they pass:
Heigh-ho! Through high and low.
Hip! Have me where the woodbinds blow.
And each one seemeth, as they speed forth, a Grace.
All carolling chant, as hollow and hill they pass:
Heigh-ho! Through high and low.
Hip! Have me where the woodbinds blow.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |