Classic Poem

I

D EW in the meadow and flowers fair,
And happy songs on the morning air,
Like silver flutes the blackbirds call,
But a maid in the meadow is best of all.

" O maid, O maid, it was you they meant
With their dewy song, and shine and scent,
It was you I know that I went to meet,
But, ah! the dream was not half so sweet
O blackbird bold!
O blackbird old!
Shrill was your whistle of warning,
So many a maid
Have you seen betrayed
By men in the meadows at morning

But your voice was too sweet to warn, brave bird,
It was only the music the maiden heard,
It was only your song that filled her head,
Your song and the words that the gallant said.

He had a dainty body fair
That maiden's eyes must follow after,
And O he had such bonny hair
And such a merry laughter

She had a body like a rose,
Her eyes were like the dew there,
Her breast a garden under snows —
Ah! how the violets grew there!

O life is sweet, but nought so sweet
As this in morning weather,
A man and maid with mouths that meet
And hearts that beat together.

O life is sad, but nought so sad
As when the sun is setting
That one forgets the joy they had,
And one has no forgetting.

II

Frost on the meadow, no flowers fair,
No song, no light, no maiden there;
But look for her down in the village street —
'Tis she, I know, that they go to meet,
'Tis she, I know, that they walk before,
For she walks in the meadows nevermore.
O nightingale!
O nightingale!
What is the use of weeping!
So many a maid
Have you seen laid
Down there where she is sleeping.