The hills far-off were blue, blue,
The hills at hand were brown;
And all the herd-bells called to me
As I came by the down.
The briars turned to roses—roses
Ever we stayed to pull
A white little rose, and a red little rose,
And a lock of silver wool.
Nobody heeded,—none, none;
And when True Love came by,
They thought him nought but the shepherd boy.
Nobody knew but I!
The trees were feathered like birds, birds;
Birds were in every tree.
Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard,
Nobody knew, save we.
And he is fairer than all,—all.
How could a heart go wrong?
For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine,
Like an old, old song.