A song of love

I saw a weeping maiden

A-searching in the morn

For Love, that's half a rose-bud,

For Love, that's half a thorn.

She sought him on the hill-top,

And o'er the dewy lea;

But he was standing in the shade,

Was waiting, waiting there with me!

He sang not in the meadow,

He piped not near the stream,

Nor hid in ferny forest,

The darling of her dream.

He lurked not in the poppies,

He shone not in the sky;

But called to her from out my heart,

And yet she passed him by!