The Turtle-Dove

"Oh! don't you see the turtle-dove

Sitting under yonder tree

Lamenting for her own true love?

And I will mourn for thee, my dear,

And I will mourn for thee."

"If you must suffer grief and pain,

'Tis but for a little while;

For, though I go away, I'll return again,

If I row ten thousand mile, my dear,

If I row ten thousand mile!"

"Ten thousand mile is very far

For me to bide alone

With a heavy, heave sigh and a bitter, bitter cry;

No one to hear my moan, my dear,

No one to hear my moan."

"I may not stay your grievous moan,

Your pain I may not ease;

Yet I will love but thee alone

Till the streams run from the seas, my dear,

Till the streams run from the seas!"