
A Shepherdess
A maiden mute and tall
Trysts me at corner wall.
I can find her nowhere,
Perplexed, I scratch my hair.
The maiden fair and mute
Gives me a grass-made lute.
The lute makes rosy light
And brings me high delight.
Coming back from the mead,
She gives me a rare reed,
Lovely not for it's rare,
It's the gift of the fair.
A maiden mute and tall
Trysts me at corner wall.
I can find her nowhere,
Perplexed, I scratch my hair.
The maiden fair and mute
Gives me a grass-made lute.
The lute makes rosy light
And brings me high delight.
Coming back from the mead,
She gives me a rare reed,
Lovely not for it's rare,
It's the gift of the fair.














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