She’d have them think, if she were heard,
She scorned the very love she sought,
And that she sung like careless bird—
A maiden who was free in thought:
Who roamed, and, roaming, trolled a glee,
Because she wanted company.
Upon this eve they met to part
Till spring again should clothe the vine;
They pledged their faith with beating heart,
And made the beechen tree their shrine;