Grass on the hill-top waving long,
And a smooth gray stone where she kept her tally
Of the years and the days in the wild singing wood.
She lived her life as a virgin should
Till the people heard her song.
They climbed the hill and they frowned and said
“We liked your songs that we heard in the valley.
We don’t like that one you are singing to-day!
It’s mad and it’s bad and it’s much too gay!
But we’ve brought you some meat and bread.”