THE BRIDE OF HEAVEN.
A BOHEMIAN BALLAD.
“When I used to go and see thee,
Stand beneath thy window sill,
See, I was quite sure, beloved one,
That we were one heart, one will.
Never did I think, beloved one,
We must part, I loving still.
“And the last time that I saw thee
Weaving a fair myrtle wreath,
I sat watching, never thinking
Why you did not bind the leaf.
Now I pray thee, loved one, tell me,
Why unfinished is the wreath?
“I was thinking, thinking sadly—
Thinking as I think to-day,
That we cannot wed, beloved one,
That our farewell we must say;
So I left the wreath unfinished,
Left unfinished to this day.
“They would force me to be married
To a youth I cannot love;
They would drag me to the altar,
Sacrifice me like a dove;
They would force me to be wedded
To a lad I cannot love.
“They would force me to be married,
Though I loath his very sight.
Go get ready for the wedding—
It will be a merry sight.
Go prepare the wedding banquet,
While I dress my hair aright.
