Golden Histories, etc By Wathen Mark Wilks Call |
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Ballad
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Golden Histories, etc | ||
163
Ballad
“Have you seen her?” he cried; “Have you seen her?” he cried.
“Yester eve,”
I whispered, “To-morrow, my Alice, my bride,
Must not grieve.”
“Yester eve,”
I whispered, “To-morrow, my Alice, my bride,
Must not grieve.”
“She stood in the cornfield, all sprinkled with dew,
“Twining flowers;
“But they were not so fair as her eyes of deep blue,
“Watch'd for hours.”
“Twining flowers;
“But they were not so fair as her eyes of deep blue,
“Watch'd for hours.”
“I saw in the morning,” a neighbour replied,
“As I past,
“A stranger, who called a fair girl to his side,
“They rode fast;
“As I past,
“A stranger, who called a fair girl to his side,
“They rode fast;
“On their bonnie white steeds, thro' the flowers, thro' the corn.
“Did they ride;
“But they soon won the sea, and their vessel was borne
“O'er the tide.”
“Did they ride;
“But they soon won the sea, and their vessel was borne
“O'er the tide.”
164
He sought her in vain—she was gone, she was lost;
But old ways
Led him forth to the fields that the maiden had crost.
Many days.
But old ways
Led him forth to the fields that the maiden had crost.
Many days.
Yet he wept not, but work'd, for the heart of a man
Beat within:
He was strong, he believed “Men should do what they can;
“Grief was sin.”
Beat within:
He was strong, he believed “Men should do what they can;
“Grief was sin.”
He was strong, but the gladness had past from his life;
He was brave,
Yet a sweet-smiling patience, precluding all strife,
Made him grave.
He was brave,
Yet a sweet-smiling patience, precluding all strife,
Made him grave.
Still he thinks of her; still sees her eyes of deep blue,
Thro' long hours;
Still she stands in the cornfield, besprinkled with dew,
Twining flowers.
Thro' long hours;
Still she stands in the cornfield, besprinkled with dew,
Twining flowers.
Golden Histories, etc | ||