Page:Cheskian Anthology.pdf/146



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."

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."

blooms near your window,

How many a rose!

And why art thou mourning

Thy premature woes?