THE RUNAWAY.
I
Dark clouds are shading
The day,—the day;
Sunlight is fading
Away,—away;
I've won from the warden
The key,—the key,
And the steed's in the garden
For me,—for me.
II
Locks of my mother
So white,—so white,—
Frowns of my father
Good night,—good night!
From turret and tower
I'm free,—I'm free,
And your rage has no power
O'er me,—o'er me.
III
Shriller is grieving
The blast,—the blast;
Lo, the waves heaving
At last,—at last!
'Twas here he, the bold one,
Should be,—should be;
And lingers he, cold one?
Ah me!—ah me!
IV
Vain is thy chiding,
For hark!—for hark!
Hither 'tis gliding
The hark,—the bark!
Joyously over
The sea—the sea
Shell waft my brave lover
With me,—with me!
April, 1832
