The Absent Husband

I picked and picked the mouse-ears,
Nor gained one basket-load;
My heart was with my husband:
I flung them on the road.

I climbed yon rugged mountain,
My ponies all broke down;
I filled my golden goblet
Long anxious thought to drown.

I climbed you lofty ridges,
With my ponies black and bay;
I filled for me my horn-cup
Long torture to allay.

I climbed yon craggy uplands,
My steeds grew weak and ill;
My footmen were exhausted: —
And here I sorrow still!