No more alone sleeping, no more alone waking, The dreams divided, thy prayers in twain; Thy merry sisters to-night forsaking, Never shall we see thee, maiden, again. Never shall we see thine, thine eyes glancing, Flashing with laughter and wild in glee, Under the mistletoe kissing and dancing, Wantonly free. There shall come a matron walking sedately, Low-voiced, gentle, wise in reply. Tell me, O tell me, can I love her greatly? All for her sake must the maiden die! |