That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,
And the blue eye
Dear and dewy,
And that infantine fresh air of hers!
To think men cannot take you, Sweet,
And enfold you,
Ay, and hold you,
And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
You like us for a...
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, To think men cannot take you, Sweet, You like us for a... |
A flower was offered to me, Then I went to my pretty rose tree, |
Thank you, pretty cow, that made Do not chew the hemlock rank, |
The Shades of eve had crossed the glen “God save all here,” my comrade cries, |
“where are you going, my pretty maid?” |
|
She dealt her pretty words like Blades — |
The pretty Rain from those sweet Eaves |