BALLAD.
"Do you think of the days that are gone, Jeanie?
As ye sit by your fire at night,
Do ye wish that the Morn might bring back the time,
When your heart and your step were light?"
As ye sit by your fire at night,
Do ye wish that the Morn might bring back the time,
When your heart and your step were light?"
"I think of the days that are gone, Robin,
And all that I joyed in them,
But the fairest that ever arose on me
I have never wished back again."
And all that I joyed in them,
But the fairest that ever arose on me
I have never wished back again."
"Do you think of the hopes that are gone, Jeanie?
As ye sit by your fire at night,
Do ye reckon them o'er, as they faded fast,
Like buds in an early blight?"
As ye sit by your fire at night,
Do ye reckon them o'er, as they faded fast,
Like buds in an early blight?"
"I think of the hopes that are gone, Robin,
But I mourn not their stay was fleet,
For they fell as the leaves of the red Rose fall,
That even in fading are sweet."
But I mourn not their stay was fleet,
For they fell as the leaves of the red Rose fall,
That even in fading are sweet."
