Willow-willow wailing—will she know!
[The willow-tree is emblematical of death, or forsaken love—which, to the lover, is, of course, all the same thing. The custom of a disappointed lover’s hanging his harp on a willow-tree and going off to the wars in utter desperation—hoping to get killed, perhaps, and thus be revenged on his false sweetheart by making her sorry!—; also the custom of wearing a green-willow garland about the hat, and leaning up against the tree (they had no fences) to die, somewhat à la Job’s turkey, I presume, as they used to do before quicker, modern, new-fangled methods of a lover’s getting out of the world came in; and the custom of doing many other things that were done by the young ancient lovers, is a custom that is dead. The preceding is the wail of one of these youthful old dolorous fellows, in the English-Ballad style of his day.]
BUZZ.
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
In my ear the sound is drumming,
On my heart-chords ever strumming,
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
Whence the sound, my soul’s confusion?
“Buzz, buzz, buzz!”
Comes the sound from days of childhood