bide not, beloved,
tarry not long,
for the sweetgrass is calling
and the light is nigh gone
here in the hollow
where first you kissed me
I will wait, my beloved,
beside the flame tree
I will cut me a branch
as red as my heart
and whittle you home
where we’ll ne’er be apart
“oh!” cries the sparrow
“ah!” calls the crow
the hills will not tell me
where my dearest did go
stay not, my lover,
away from my hand,
for the blackbirds are crying
low o’er the land
they winnow and plummet
away from their rest
their song e’er repeating
is the same in my breast
oh, bide not, beloved,
leave me not by,
alone in the hollow
to wait and to sigh
“oh!” cries the sparrow
“ah!” calls the crow
the stars will not tell me
where my dearest did go
the wind’s in the rushes
the moon’s in the pine
the sweetgrass now whispers
you never were mine
consign me not, dearest,
behind the church gates,
but bury me gently
where for you I did wait
there in the hollow
where first you kissed me
I will wait, my beloved,
beside the flame tree
“oh!” cries the sparrow
“ah!” calls the crow
the flame tree will tell you
where your dearest did go
© Sarah Whiteley
