When last I strayed

When last I stray'd into the glade,

All things were green and blooming.

The roses there were blushing fair,

All that lay round perfuming.

I drew me near a fountain clear,

Which fresh and gay was playing,

And there I saw my own true love,

And she for me was staying.

I cannot tell how it befel,

That she should kindly greet me,

For I might say, before that day,

Most hardly did she treat me.

But let that be, she's dear to me,

Yet love I not as brother,

And if she lay in her cold clay,

I ne'er could love another.