A Ballad

Take the robes from off thy form
And cease thine hair to braid
Thy love to thee will come no more
He woos another maid
And broken are the many vows
That he has pledged to thee
He woos another maid, and this
My bridal morn should be
False to me oh say not so
For if thy tail be true
And the one that I love be lost to me
I shall not live to rue
And if he do take another mate
Before the holy shrine
Another ne’er shall have my heart
Death will be a friend of mine
She takes the robe from off her form
And dons a snow white gown
She loosened from her lock the braid
And let her hair hang down
She flung around her lovely head
Thin shroud of her veil
To hide the fast ascending tears
And cheeck of moon ray pale
With hurried yet, with careful steps
Into the church she hides
And there she saw the false of heart
Receive another bride
The bride pageant swept along
'Til all the train had fled
Why stands the lone deserted one
She slumbers with the dead