Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/60

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Come out to die —
To live unloved is worse, O!"

In faith, this lord, in that lone dale,
Hears now a sweeter nightingale,
And lairs a tenderer deer, O;
His sorrow goes
Like mountain snows
In waters sweet and clear, O!

What ghostly hound is this that fleet
Comes fawning to his mistress' feet,
And courses round his master?
How swiftly love
May grief remove,
How happy make disaster!

Now here he smells, now there he smells,
Winding his voice along the dells,
Till grey flows up the morn, O
Then hies again
To Lady Jane
No longer now forlorn, O.

Ay, as it were a bud, did break
To loveliness for her love's sake,
So she in beauty moving
Rides at his hand
Across his land,
Beloved as well as loving.