Beneath this thorn when I was young, This thorn that blooms so sweet, We loved to stretch our lazy limbs In summer's noon-tide heat.
And hither too the old man came, The maiden and her feer, ‘ Then tell me, Sexton, tell me why The toad has harbour here.
‘ The Thorn is neither dry nor dead, But still it blossoms sweet; Then tell me why all round its roots The dock and nettle meet.
‘ Why here the hemlock, & c. ‘ Why these three graves all side by side, Beneath the flow'ry thorn, Stretch out so green and dark a length,
By any foot unworn.’ There, there a ruthless mother lies Beneath the flowery thorn; And there a barren wife is laid,
And there a maid forlorn. The barren wife and maid forlorn Did love each other dear; The ruthless mother wrought the woe,
And cost them many a tear. Fair Ellen was of serious mind, Her temper mild and even, And Mary, graceful as the fir
That points the spire to heaven. Young Edward he to Mary said, ‘ I would you were my bride,’ And she was scarlet as he spoke,
And turned her face to hide. ‘ You know my mother she is rich, And you have little gear; And go and if she say not Nay,
Then I will be your fere.’ Young Edward to the mother went. To him the mother said: ‘ In truth you are a comely man;
You shall my daughter wed.’ [ In Mary's joy fair Eleanor Did bear a sister's part; For why, though not akin in blood,
They sisters were in heart. ] Small need to tell to any man That ever shed a tear What passed within the lover's heart
The happy day so near. The mother, more than mothers use, Rejoiced when they were by; And all the‘ course of wooing’ passed
Beneath the mother's eye. And here within the flowering thorn How deep they drank of joy: The mother fed upon the sight,
Nor...
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