There is a willow grows aslant the brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come.
How insane lovers’ words spoken in romance
when in those stolen moments on our own,
I would drown in the beauty of his glance.
My brother warned me it was just a trance,
my virtue would be sullied about town.
How insane these words spoken in romance.
My sweetheart thought I only lived to dance
then later with his head laid in my gown,
I would drown in the beauty of his glance.
My love mocked how my father used to prance.
Do nuns sing sowing gardens all alone?
How insane these words spoken in romance.
Rosemary, how bitter sweet the fragrance,
when lovers, like old willows, tumble down.
I would drown in the beauty of his glance.
See now how white blossom begins to dance
so tender these water weeds have grown.
How insane these words spoken in romance.
I would drown in the beauty of his glance.