The east wind whistle upon the mountain,
No wintry gusts our love will cool.
That is courtship, Urith—summer in the midst of winter. Now listen to matrimony—what that is:—
I shall be wed a' Trinity Sunday,
And then—adieu to my holiday!
Come frost, come snow on Trinity Monday,
Why then beginneth my winter day.
If drudge and smudge on Trinity Monday,
If wind and weather—I do not care!
If winter follows Trinity Sunday,