Than never to be wed at all.”
I’d work my hands down to the bone
Rather than rest, a maiden lone.
This truth I cannot, will not shirk,
I feel it when I sorrow most,
I’d rather break my back with work
And haggard look as any ghost—
Rather than lonely vigils keep
I’d wed, and sigh, and groan, and weep.
Yes, I can say, though tears fall quick,