I am up with the lark
Fences and walls to mend before dark
And there every morning
By the old rusty gate
You wave me a greeting
I swear I will never see a prettier sight
As that handkerchief fluttering
Against a crimson sky
And you all dressed in white.

At noon you bring me bread and ale
And we lie for half an hour
Watching clouds race by
Kiss you, I do not
Nor touch your hem
Keeping very still
And wondering when
You will say
'It is to you I will be true.'

On my way home
I watch you reading
At your window
By a single candlelight
You never look up
And so to you I do say
Think of me kindly
When I am gone.