THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.
35
There's somewhat flows to us in life,
But more is taken quite away.
Pray, Alice, pray, my own sweet wife,
That we may die the selfsame day.
But more is taken quite away.
Pray, Alice, pray, my own sweet wife,
That we may die the selfsame day.
V.
My father's mansion, mounted high,
Looked down upon the village-spire.
I was a long and listless boy,
And son and heir unto the squire.
In these dear walls, where I and you
Have lived and loved alone so long,
Each morn my sleep was broken thro'
By some wild skylark's matin song.
My father's mansion, mounted high,
Looked down upon the village-spire.
I was a long and listless boy,
And son and heir unto the squire.
In these dear walls, where I and you
Have lived and loved alone so long,
Each morn my sleep was broken thro'
By some wild skylark's matin song.
VI.
I often heard the cooing dove
In firry woodlands mour alone,
But ere I saw your eyes, my love,
I had no motion of my own:
I often heard the cooing dove
In firry woodlands mour alone,
But ere I saw your eyes, my love,
I had no motion of my own:
