THE CHANGELING.
O 'tis I will go to the heart of the wood, All sweet with the morning dew;I will love my life, and find it good, With never a thought of you.
'Tis you will come when the shadows fall, Ere the first star lights the sky,And for love of me you will lean and call, But I will not reply.
I will pass you by in a whispering wind, As close as close may be,But I will not tell you where to find My dwelling-place or me.
35
