He was the son of a hunting squire
And heir to a fair estate,
And she but an humble serving maid
Who opened his father's gate.
He thought her sweet as the garden rose
He wore in his coat each day.
She took for her kiss the broken flower
He flung as he passed her way.
He smiled to see on the shy young cheek
The lamp of her love aglow,
She held the shrine of his laughing eyes
The God that she best did know.
Oh! but the song of the spring is sweet
When the sap flows high in the tree.
And what will it bring for you, my dear,
And what will it bring for me?

He rode him far on the winding road
In search of an ancient lore,
She crouched till dawn in the midnight streets
Thrust out from her father's door.
He wed a lady of high degree,
No fairer was ever seen.
Her bridegroom gave her a narrow bed
With a coverlet all in green.
He raised for his kiss the new-born son
He held in his strong arms' hold.
She had no smile for the little babe
Who lay by her side so cold.
Oh! but the song of the storm is loud
In the winter shrouded tree.
And what has it brought for you, my dear,
And what has it brought for me?