Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/144



the green grove my footsteps stray;

Alas! they stray:

I met a sportsman on the way.

sun shines out in warmth above;

Ah! warm above:

My heart it blossoms forth in love.

there we sit till eve draws near;

Ah! eve draws near—

The sportsman shoots a wandering deer.

is no deer—it is a doe;

Alas! a doe—

O maiden! thou hast planted woe.