I.
My Love is a lady fair and free,
A lady fair from over the sea,
And she hath eyes that pierce my breast
And rob my spirit of peace and rest.
II.
A youthful warrior, warm and young,
She takes me prisoner with her tongue,
Aye! and she keeps me,—on parole,—
Till paid the ransom of my soul.
III.
I swear the foeman, arm'd for war
From cap-a-pie, with many a scar,
More mercy finds for prostrate foe
Than she who deals me never a blow.
IV.
And so 'twill be, this many a day;
She comes to wound, if not to slay.
But in my dreams,—in honied sleep,—
'Tis I to smile, and she to weep!