But there was no tale of death
In all the parish round,
And neither had heard of a maid
Thus put in unholy ground.
He loosed her hand from his hand,
And turned on his heel away.
"I know you are false," he said,
"From the lie you told today."
And she said, "Oh, what evil things
Did tonight my senses take?"
She knelt down by the water side
And wept as her heart would break.
And she said, "Oh, what fairy sight
Was it thus my grief to see!
I'll sleep well 'neath the still water,
Since my love has turned on me."
And her love he went to the north,
And far to the south went he,
But still he heard her distant voice
Call, weeping so bitterly.
He could not rest in the daytime,
He could not sleep in the night,
Hastened back to the old road,
With the trysting-place in sight.
What first he heard was his love's name,
And keening both loud and long;
What first he saw was his love's face
At the head of a mourning throng.
And white she was as the dead are,
And never a move made she,
But passed him by on her black pall,
Still sleeping so peacefully.
And cold she was as the dead are,
And never a word she spake,
When they said, "Unholy is her grave,
Since she her life did take."