Jeronim de Rada

Can A Kiss Be Sweeter?

It was Sunday morning
And the son of the noble matron
Went to visit the fair maid
To ask for a dropp of water,
For he was dying of thirst.
He found her alone by the hearth
Braiding her hair.
They loved one another, but spoke not of their love,
The maiden with a smile on her lips:

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