Three songs

In the scented bud of the morning -- O,
  When the windy grass went rippling far,
I saw my dear one walking slow,
  In the field where the daises are.

We did not laugh [and]1 we did not speak
  As we wandered [happily]2 to and fro;
I kissed my dear on either cheek,
  In the bud of the morning -- O!

A lark sang up from the breezy land,
  A lark sang down from a cloud afar,
As she and I went hand in hand
  In the field where the daisies are.

A woman is a branchy tree 
And man a singing wind, 
And from her branches carelessly 
He takes what he can find : 
Then wind and man go far away 
While winter comes with loneliness, 
With cold and rain and slow decay 
On woman and on tree till they 
Droop to the ground again and be 
A withered woman, a withered tree ; 
While wind and man woo undismayed 
Another tree, another maid.

Day by day 
The sun's broad beam 
Fades away 
By a golden gleam ; 
Hark on the cliff 
How the sea-gulls scream ! 

Eve by eve 
The wind more drear 
Stays to grieve 
That the winter's near ; 
Hark how the crisp leaves 
Dart and fleer !
 
Night by night 
The shade grows dense,
And the cold starlight 
Beams more intense ; 
Hark how the beggar boy 
Asks for pence !

Get you out 
Your muffler grey, 
Your boots so stout, 
And your great-coat, pray. 
And put on your gloves, 
'Tis a hardy day.