Ride with a man at your bridle-rein—
My man never will come again.
Ride, ride, for the sun is strong:
O but a lonely road can be long!
Ride, ride, for the light grows dim:
What of the others? I wanted him.
Home, home, for the tale is told:
I was young and now I am old.
FOUR TRANSLATIONS FROM THE GERMAN
I
(Writer unknown)
I heard a sickle sighing,
Yea, sighing through the corn,
I heard a maiden crying
That was for love forlorn.
“Give over, love, give over!
I care not what may pass,
For in the green, green clover
I’ve found another lass.”
“If in the green, green clover
The while I stand apart
You’ve found another lover
I well may break my heart.”