Gramachree

One morning very early, one morning in the spring,

I heard a maid in Bedlam who mournfully did sing.

Her chains she rattled on her hands while sweetly thus sang she,

I love my love because I know my love loves me.

Oh cruel were his parents who sent my love to sea,

And cruel, cruel was the ship that bore my love from me.

Yet I love his parents since they're his, although they've ruined me,

And I love my love because I know my love loves me.

Oh should it please the pitying powers to call me to the sky,

I'll claim a guardian angel's charge around my love to fly.

To guard him from all dangers how happy I should be,

For I love my love because I know my love loves me.

I'll make a strawy garland, I'll make it wondrous fine,

With roses, lilies, daisies I'll mix the eglantine,

And I'll present it to my love when he returns from sea,

For I love my love because I know my love loves me.

Oh if I were a little bird to build upon his breast,

Or if I were a nightingale to sing my love to rest,

To gaze upon his lovely eyes all my reward should be,

For I love my love because I know my love loves me.

Oh if I were an eagle to soar in to the sky,

I'd gaze around with piercing eyes where I my love might spy.

But ah, unhappy maiden, that love you ne'er shall see,

Yet I love my love because I know my love loves me.