Part 2 — A CASUAL SONG
Reading edition
She sang of lovers met to play "Under the may bloom, under the may," But when I sought her face so fair, I found the set face of Despair.
She sang of woodland leaves in spring, And joy of young love dallying; But her young eyes were all one moan, And Death weighed on her heart like stone.
I could not ask, I know not now, The story of that mournful brow; It haunts me as it haunted then, A flash from fire of hellbound men.
Roden Noel [1834-1894]