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1853–1922

AN OLD REFRAIN

Thomas Nelson Page

It seems to me as I think of her, That my youth has come again: I hear the breath of summer stir The leaves in the old refrain:

“Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? I will seek my Love, with the wings of a dove, And pray her to love but me.”

The flower-kissed meadows all once more Are green with grass and plume; The apple-trees again are hoar With fragrant snow of bloom.

Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc. The meadow-brook slips tinkling by With silvery, rippling flow,

And blue-birds sing on fences nigh, To dandelions below. Oh! my Lady-love, Oh, my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc.

I hear again the drowsy croon Of honey-laden bees, And catch the poppy-mellowed rune They hum to locust trees.

Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady-love be? etc. Far off the home-returning cows Low that the Eve is late,

And call their calves neath apple-boughs To meet them at the gate. Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc.

Once more the Knights and ladies pass In visions Fancy-wove: I lie full length in summer grass, To choose my own True-Love.

Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc. I know not how,— I know not where,— I dream a fairy-spell:

I know she is surpassing fair,— I know I love her well. Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc.

I know she is as pure as snow:— As true as God's own Truth:— I know,— I know I love her so, She must love me, in sooth!

Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc. I know the stars dim to her eyes; The flowers blow in her face:

I know the angels in the skies Have given her of their grace. Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be? etc.

And none but I her heart can move, Though seraphs may have striven; And when I find my own True-love, I know I shall find Heaven.

Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! my Lady-love! Oh! where can my Lady be! I will seek my Love with the wings of a dove And pray her to love but me.

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AN OLD REFRAIN · Thomas Nelson Page · Poetry Cove