Long evening full of longing Low-spirited my mornings Full of longing to my nights And all times the bitterest This my lovely I long for It is my darling I miss My black-browed one I grieve for
Beneath the grass my treasure Under the sand my sweet oneThere's no hearing my treasure No seeing my marten-breast No hearing her in the lane Driving below the window Chopping the wood by the stack Clinking outside the cook-house:
In the earth my berry lies In the soil she's mouldering Under the sand my sweet one Beneath the grass my treasure
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