p. 87FOLK SONGS

p. 87FOLK SONGS

p. 89French Peasant Songs.

I.

Oh, fair apple tree, and oh, fair apple tree,
As heavy and sweet as the blossoms on thee,
   My heart is heavy with love.
It wanteth but a little wind
   To make the blossoms fall;
It wanteth but a young lover
   To win me heart and all.

II.

I send my love letters
   By larks on the wing;
My love sends me letters
   When nightingales sing.

Without reading or writing,
   Their burden we know:
They only say, “Love me,
   Who love you so.”

p. 90III.

And if they ask for me, brother,
   Say I come never home,
For I have taken a strange wife
   Beyond the salt sea foam.

The green grass is my bridal bed,
   The black tomb my good mother,
The stones and dust within the grave
   Are my sister and my brother.