My love went berrying
Where brooks were merrying
And wild wings ferrying
Heaven's amethyst;
The wildflowers blessed her,
My dearest Hester,
The winds caressed her,
The sunbeams kissed.
I followed, carrying
Her basket; varying
Fond hopes of marrying
With hopes denied;
Both late and early
She deemed me surly,
And bowed her curly
Fair head and sighed:
“The skies look lowery;
It will he showery;
No longer flowery
The way I find.
No use in going.
‘ T will soon be snowing
If you keep growing
Much more unkind.”
Then looked up tearfully.
And I, all fearfully,
Replied, “My dear, fully
Will I explain:
I love you dearly,
But look not cheerly
Since all says clearly
I love in vain.”
Then smiled she airily;
And answered merrily
With words that — verily
Made me decide:
And drawing tow'rd her,
I there implored her —
I who adored her —
To be my bride.
O sweet simplicity
Of young rusticity,
Without duplicity,
Whom love made know,
That hearts in meter
Make earth completer;
And kisses, sweeter
Than — berries grow.