An Old Song.

The wild duck fly over

From river to river

And so the young lover

Goes roving for ever.

They fly together,

He walks alone:

No maiden can tether

Him with her moan.

At the bursting of blossom

On her breast his head;

He has left her bosom

Ere the apples are red.

Across the valley,

Singing he goes.

In highway and alley

He seeks a new rose.

Tell me, O maidens,

You who all day

In lyrical cadence

Dance and play,

Why do you proffer

Your sweets to one,

Who takes all you offer

And leaves you to moan?