Sing first sad going
By vale and hill,
By wind-flower walking
And daffodil, --
Sing stars of morning,
Sing morning skies,
Sing blue of speedwell, --
And my Love's eyes.
Full-leaved and strong,
And gay birds gossip
The orchard long, --
Sing hid, sweet honey
That no bee sips;
Sing red, red roses, --
And my Love's lips.
The leaves again,
And piled sheaves bury
The broad-wheeled wain, --
Sing flutes of harvest
Where men rejoice;
Sing rounds of reapers, --
And my Love's voice.
With hail and storm,
And red fire roaring
And ingle warm, --
Sing first sad going
Of friends that part;
Then sing glad meeting, --
And my Love's heart.
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