Though this may be play to you,
'Tis death to us.

Though this may be play to you,
'Tis death to us.

She only said, My life is dreary,
He cometh not, she said;
She said I am aweary, read more

She only said, My life is dreary,
He cometh not, she said;
She said I am aweary, aweary,
Oh God, that I were dead.

So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.

So was hir jolly whistel wel y-wette.

It a wretched thing to suffer at the hand of one of whom we
cannot complain.

It a wretched thing to suffer at the hand of one of whom we
cannot complain.

But he who stems a stream with sand,
And fetters flame with flaxen band,
Has yet a read more

But he who stems a stream with sand,
And fetters flame with flaxen band,
Has yet a harder task to prove--
By firm resolve to conquer love!

Her prentice han' she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses O!

Her prentice han' she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses O!

One faire day in winter makes not birds merrie.

One faire day in winter makes not birds merrie.

Which he by hook or crook has gather'd
And by his own inventions father'd.

Which he by hook or crook has gather'd
And by his own inventions father'd.

My poverty, but not my will consents.

My poverty, but not my will consents.