 | Brother Fabian's Manuscript |  |
164
THE WINTER MORN.
Heigh-ho, the sorrow and the snow,And a true true love forlorn!
O wearily I go o'er the weary weary snow,
In the weary, weary winter morn!
Tramping, tramping, whither shall I go?—
Tramping, tramping, weary-foot and worn?
For O, and for O, in the darkness and the snow,
O well the wind may blow, and O well the tear may flow
For a true true love forlorn!
| Brother Fabian's Manuscript | |