“Oi! Daughter mine! Fear’s on my heart;
Ill liest thou on thy bed?
For lo! thy lovely Malva flower
Is withered all and dead.”
Not one day was I lying sick,
Not one day, not one hour—
Unfaithful was the man I wed,
And I am in his power.
A GIRL’S SONG
What is the use of my black eyebrow,