“‘And when I came before the gate,
The bolt was drawn, and I must wait;
And when I came to the wooden bench,
They said, “She’s but a peevish wench!”
Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part
Can tell how parting tears the heart!
“‘And when I came to the strangers’ hearth,
They whispered, “She is little worth;”
And when I came before the bed,
I sighed, “Would I were yet a maid!”