5
I want no gold, no costly gear,
now my true love is dead;
But with fading flower and scalding tear
I deck my bridal bed.
⟨Oh!⟩ be my bride, thou weeping fair,
oh! be my bride, I pray;
And I will build a tomb most rare,
where thy true love shall lay:
But still in tears she cry'd, My love,
my true love stay for me;
Stay till I've deckt my bridal bed,
and I will follow thee.
My love needs not a tomb so rare,
in a green grave we will lie;
Our carved works—these flowerets fair,
Our canopy be sky.
Now go, Sir knight, now go thy ways,
full soon I shall be dead;
And then return in some few days,
and deck my bridal bed.
And strew the flower, and pluck the thorn,
and cleanse the turf I pray,
So may some hand thy turf adorn,
when thou in grave shalt lay.
But stay, oh thou whom dear I love,
my true love, stay for me;
Stay till I've deckt my bridal bed,
and I will follow thee.
