Winding up the stream, light-hearted,

Where the osier pathway leads,

Past the boughs she stoops—and stops.

Lo, the wild swan had deserted,

And a rat had gnawed the reeds.

Ellie went home sad and slow.

If she found the lover ever,

With his red-roan steed of steeds,

Sooth I know not; but I know

She could never show him—never,