 | Poems |  |
149
SONG II.
[I met her in the flowery month]
I
I met her in the flowery monthOf blossom-laden Spring,
When trees put forth their tender leaves,
And larks soared high to sing;
We wandered where the primrose grew,
Deep in the forest-glade,
There vowing nought save death should part,
Me and my Village Maid.
150
II
When Summer came, with sunny days,And soft blue-hanging skies,
Throwing a gladness all around,
Just like her gentle eyes;
Again we sought the twilight woods,
Where hazels formed a shade,
And sweeter than the speckled thrush,
Sang my fair Village Maid.
III
When Autumn came in solemn gold,And yellow leaves were strown,
I saw that Death had marked my love,
Too soon! to be his own:
I tended her by night and day,
But when the gleaners strayed
Across the stubbly harvest-fields,
Death stole my Village Maid.
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IV
Then Winter came with hollow voice;—I heard the howling wind
Ring through the savage naked woods,
Now gloomy like my mind:
Yet still I lived,—although I prayed
Beside her to be laid;
But Death would lend no ear to me,
He had my Village Maid.
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