The House Where My Loved One Lived

The house where my loved one lived

is white and lies in the valley floor,

and I could dream as I look at it now

that I see her again coming out of the door,

and walking up through the stubble fields

and coming to me once more.

Yet the world where my loved one lived

was far - so far from this world of mine,

for hers was a nature that full of zest

tasted each pleasure without repine,

and filled her days with frolic and jest

and drinking my love like wine.

But when she had drunk she smashed the glass,

and oh how I wish I could think no more

of that lovely girl who prints her toes

in the cool wet sands of an alien shore

and never dreams now in her wildest dreams

of coming to me once more.