The Flower of Love

There's a maiden fair to see,
A fair maid known to me,
With tresses bright,
With looks of light,
All gladsome grace is she.
The harp gives sweetest notes
When her voice of music floats,
My woe, my loss!

I may not cross
With her the brine of boats.
There's a stately maiden seen
Of all brave youths the queen —
The Star of Love —
The Sun above —
The golden blithe baibin!
Her heart's a spotless shrine

Of noble gifts divine.
My loss, my woe!
'Twere joy to go
With her beyond the brine.
Her curling golden hair,
That floats to feet so fair,
Floats out to please
The laughing breeze,

And all our hearts ensnare.
With voice of tender ruth,
She read the Bible's truth:
Where'er I rove
May Christ's sweet love
Keep ward around her youth.
The crimson berry's glow
Is on her cheek of snow:

What joy, what pride,
To win that bride,
The Luck of Life below!
But now on the green brine
Of barques is floating mine,
And I must leave
My love to grieve,
My,. Flower of Love to pine.