My Mary Dear

O art thou gone, my Mary dear,
And cold thy heart, once warm with love,
And shall we never walk again
In meadow green or shady grove ?
Returning from the harvest home,
As I drew near my native shore,
I thought those lips would welcome me,
Which cannot give one welcome more !

I've toiled for many a weary day,
Nor sorrowed at my lonely lot,
That I my darling girl might bring
To cheer and bless my peasant cot ;
Sweet roses bloom around it now —
Our lambs are bleating in the fold,
But not one smile hast thou for me —
Thy rosy cheeks are pale and cold !

The snow-white wedding-dress I gave,
My Mary dear, thy shroud shall be !
My only wife in death or life,
I'll place this ring of love on thee :
And thou wilt to the altar go,
But lifeless on thy early bier,
And leave me with an aching heart
To sigh and shed the bitter tear !

I'll miss thee from the village dance ;
From all the sports of merry May ;
And from the old cross in the glen,
Where we have often knelt to pray !
I'll miss thee when my bosom mourns,
And sorrow sits upon my brow ;
For none but thou could cheer the heart
So hopeless and so lonely now !