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.