Elegy

Long evenings full on longing

Low-spirited my mornings

Full of longing too my nights

And all times the bitterest.

'tis my lovely i long for

It is my darling i miss

My black-browed one i grieve for.



There's no hearing my treasure

No seeing my marten-breat

No hearing her in the lane

Driving below the window

Chopping the wood by the stack

Clinking outside the cook-house:



In the eart my berry lies

In the soil she's mouldering

Under the sand my sweet one

Beneath the grass my treasure

The one i grieve for.


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