Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/338

 This was my lady’s birth; God gave her might and mirth And laid his whole sweet earth Between her hands.

Under deep apple-boughs My lady hath her house; She wears upon her brows The flower thereof; All saying but what God saith To her is as vain breath; She is more strong than death, Being strong as love.