An Old Song.
By Edward Shanks
The wild duck fly over
From river to river
And so the young lover
Goes roving for ever.
They fly together,
He walks alone:
No maiden can tether
Him with her moan.
At the bursting of blossom
On her breast his head;
He has left her bosom
Ere the apples are red.
Across the valley,
Singing he goes.
In highway and alley
He seeks a new rose.
Tell me, O maidens,
You who all day
In lyrical cadence
Dance and play,
Why do you proffer
Your sweets to one,
Who takes all you offer
And leaves you to moan?