Sisters, sisters, thirty years
I sought where he might be;
Thirty years I sought for him:
Never did I see.

Thirty years the way I trod;
Long the road and hot;
Sisters, he was everywhere,
He who yet is not.

Sisters, sad the hour and late.
My sandal's thongs unpick.
Even as I the evening dies,
And my soul is sick.

You whose years are seventeen,
Forth and seek him too;
Sisters, sisters, take my staff,
Seek the whole world through.