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277
BALLAD.
Why leave ye thus your father's hall,
And hie to the gate so oft?—
'Tis only to watch the moonlight fall
O'er the waves that sleep so soft.
And why do ye seek one small blue flower
Through every sylvan spot?—
Oh, 'tis but a gem for a maiden's bower,
A little “forget me not!”
And hie to the gate so oft?—
'Tis only to watch the moonlight fall
O'er the waves that sleep so soft.
And why do ye seek one small blue flower
Through every sylvan spot?—
Oh, 'tis but a gem for a maiden's bower,
A little “forget me not!”
280
Why wear ye that wreath so dim and dry,
With its leaves all pined and dead?—
The maid look'd up with a tearful eye,
But never a word she said.
And why for every word ye speak
Have ye twenty sighs of late?—
The maiden hath hied, with a blushing cheek,
Again to the moonlight gate.
With its leaves all pined and dead?—
The maid look'd up with a tearful eye,
But never a word she said.
And why for every word ye speak
Have ye twenty sighs of late?—
The maiden hath hied, with a blushing cheek,
Again to the moonlight gate.
Hark! is it a sound, indeed, that rings?
A hoof o'er the wild road press'd?
Oh, is it her own true knight that springs,
And folds her to his breast?
And is it that wreath so dark and dry
That meets her knight's fond kiss?
Again was a tear in the maiden's eye,
But, oh! 'twas a tear of bliss.
A hoof o'er the wild road press'd?
Oh, is it her own true knight that springs,
And folds her to his breast?
And is it that wreath so dark and dry
That meets her knight's fond kiss?
Again was a tear in the maiden's eye,
But, oh! 'twas a tear of bliss.
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