At the end of the endless mile,
Nothing to see but the silent snow—
I turned with my tears to your heart, and lo!
Love was with me all the while!
THE GYPSY
O, she was most precious, as the wind’s self was fair.
What did I give her when I had her on my knee?
Red kisses for her coral lips, and a red comb for her hair.
She took my gifts, she took my heart, and fled away from me.