But he was only a boy, and therefore would not suffer
much. He would forget her as soon as she was out of his sight. So as he
was a very dear boy, she would be as kind to him as ever she could, for
she was going away soon.
She did not see that Alec would either take what she gave for more than
she gave, or else turn from it as no gift at all.
When they reached the house, Alec, recovering himself a little,
requested her to sing. She complied at once, and was foolish enough to
sing the following
BALLAD.
It is May, and the moon leans down all night
Over a blossomy land.
By her window sits the lady white,
With her chin upon her hand.
"O sing to me, dear nightingale,
The song of a year ago;
I have had enough of longing and wail,
Enough of heart-break and woe.
O glimmer on me, my apple-tree,
Like living flakes of snow;
Let odour and moonlight and melody
In the old rich harmony flow."
The dull odours stream; the cold blossoms gleam;
And the bird will not be glad.
The dead never speak when the living dream--
They are too weak and sad.
She listened and sate, till night grew late,
Bound by a weary spell.
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