My young love said to me: My mother won't mind, And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind. She put her arms 'round me; these words she did say: It will not be long, love, 'til our wedding day! Then she stepped away from me, and she moved thru the Faire, And so fondly I watched her move here and move there; At last she turned homeward, with one star awake, As the Swan in the evening moves over the lake. Last night she came to me, my dead love came in,
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