Alone, all alone

When westward I'm called,

'Tis not east I'll be going.

Should I sup the salt wave

With the pure spring to hand,

Or prefer the base weed

To the richest rose blowing,

Or not follow my own love

The first through the land.

Oh, my heart is a fountain

Of sorrow unspoken,

A virgin nut-cluster

Untimely down torn!

And oh, but my heart

Flutters bleeding and broken,

Like a bird beating out

Its wild life on a thorn.

His cheek is the hue

Of the blackberry blossom,

And blackberry blue

His dark tresses above;

And I'm cryin' without

Who should lie in his bosom

And I doubt and I doubt

If he's true to his love.

'Tis time I should part you,

Proud, hurrying City;

For your tongues they cut sharper

By far than your stone,

And your hearts than that same

Are more hardened to pity;

So my love I'll go seeking,

Alone, all alone!