MAY PROBYN ?<?7 <Is it Nothing to You?'
WE were playing on the green together, My sweetheart and I O' so heedless in the gay June weather
When the word went forth that we must die. O' so merrily the balls of amber
And of ivory toss'd we to the sky, While the word went forth in the King's chamber That we both must die.
O' so idly straying thro' the pleasaunce
Pluck'd we here and there Fruit and bud, while in the royal presence
The King'b son was casting from hib hair Glory of the wreathen gold that crowned it,
And, ungirdling all his garments fair, Flinging by the jcwelPd clasp that bound it,
With his feet made bare.
Down the myrtled stairway of the palace,
Ashes on his head, Came he, thro' the rose and citron alleys,
In rough sark of sackcloth habited, And in the hempen halter O' we jested
Lightly, and we laugh'd as he was led To the torture, while the bloom we breasted
Where the grapes grew red
Of so sweet the birds, when he was dying,
Piped to her and me Is no room this glad June day for sighing
He is dead, and she and I go free!
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