No more of me you knew."
Paul's hands turning the skeins paused, his eyes were on the girl's face as, with a mixture of recklessness and regret, she went on--
"The morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain,
But she shall bloom in winter snow
Ere we two meet again!
He turned his charger as he spake
Upon the river shore,
Said 'Adieu for evermore,
My love,