Classic Poem

Mother! sweet mother mine,
Gold is that heart of thine:
My lover is coming on faithful steed,
Make ready the chamber, make ready the hall,
They must be swept and garnish'd all;
And he shall find a welcome indeed.

Mother ! sweet mother mine!
Gold is that heart of thine:
Go forth, my mother, the youth to meet,
I will make ready the chambers and hall —
Yes! I will sweep and garnish them all,
And we will give him a welcome sweet.

Mother ! sweet mother mine!
Gold is that heart of thine;
My love is fording the running water;
I see him threading the narrow way —
He hastens hither — O misery — nay!
He has taken the path to the Rychtar's daughter.