Songs of A Wayfarer By William Davies |
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| LXXXIV. | LXXXIV. MICHAELMAS. |
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 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
LXXXIV. MICHAELMAS.
There are not many days 'twixt this and Michaelmas:
(I thank my God for the gift of his grace!)
My bonny lad left me a year come Michaelmas,
And promised me sure I should see his face
Ere another Michaelmas.
(I thank my God for the gift of his grace!)
My bonny lad left me a year come Michaelmas,
And promised me sure I should see his face
Ere another Michaelmas.
Ay, ay! I am old and poor, but honest.
Bless my lad from the depth of my heart:
But he stands like a man; his face is a grand one.
It went but hard with my years to part
From my boy last Michaelmas.
Bless my lad from the depth of my heart:
But he stands like a man; his face is a grand one.
It went but hard with my years to part
From my boy last Michaelmas.
I am growing half dazed, I think, and foolish;
For I seem, at night, in my crazy old brain,
When the wind is blowing, to hear his whistle
Through the oak-tree leaves, from the end of the lane,
As he comes before Michaelmas.
For I seem, at night, in my crazy old brain,
When the wind is blowing, to hear his whistle
Through the oak-tree leaves, from the end of the lane,
As he comes before Michaelmas.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |