So sweetly would I rest, and pray
That Heaven would close my wintry day!
’Twas thus my hair they bade me braid,
They made me to the church repair;
It was my bridal morn, they said,
And my true love would meet me there.
But woe betide the cruel guile,
That drown’d in blood the morning smile!
And woe betide the fairy dream!
I only waked to sob and scream.