Classic Poem

The stream 'neath your window
Pursues its calm course;
Then come my beloved,
And water my horse.
" Nay! nay! " said the maid,
" I am but a poor child,
And I am afraid. "

There grows near your window,
A green olive tree!
And let me, sweet maiden!
Partake it with thee.
" Nay! nay! " said the maid
" I'm but a poor child,
And I am afraid. "

There blooms near your window,
How many a rose!
And why art thou mourning
Thy premature woes?
" I mourn not! O no!
Yet sweet 'twere to me,
Could my eyelids o'erflow. "

W HY hang down your eyelids,
As if lull'd in sleep,
Your mother more caution
Desires you to keep.
Child thou art to blame —
Retire thee, retire!
The neighbour's cry " shame. "

" O NO ! my gold-mother,
Of shame do not tell —
I said to my lover
Farewell! and farewell! "
She broke the pledg'd vow,
Their hearts were both rent,
He unsheaths his sword now. "