For I have not a moment’s time;
For I heard that you had a new sweetheart,
And your heart is no more mine.’
‘It never was, and it never shall be,
And it never was any such a thing;
For yonder she stands, in her own father’s garden,
The garden of the vine,
Mourning for her own true love,
Just like I’ve mourned for mine.’
I laid my head in a little closet-door,