Part 2 — "MY MOTHER BIDS ME BIND MY HAIR"
Reading edition
My mother bids me bind my hair With bands of rosy hue; Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare, And lace my bodice blue!
"For why," she cries, "sit still and weep, While others dance and play?" Alas! I scarce can go, or creep, While Lubin is away!
'Tis sad to think the days are gone When those we love were near! I sit upon this mossy stone, And sigh when none can hear:
And while I spin my flaxen thread, And sing my simple lay, The village seems asleep, or dead, Now Lubin is away!
Anne Hunter [1742-1821]