by Alfred Perceval Graves (1846 - 1931)

Her brow is like the lily
Language: English 
Her brow is like the lily,
Her cheek is like the rose,
And fair as daffodilly
Her yellow coolun flows.
Ne’er blue so tender
Flowed in a glance,
And ne’er shape as slender
Went gliding in the dance.

‘Twas up among the mountains,
She lived all alone,
Where Connemara’s fountains
Fall chiming on the stone.
Singing I found her
Down in a dell,
With all the birds round her
Entranced before her spell.

I asked why she was leading
So lonesome a life,
And long my passion pleading,
Besought her for my wife.
“Ah! Hasty lover,
You woo in vain,
But when a year’s over
Come seek me here again.”

Oh! Early up the mountain
When that year was o’er,
The creeping minutes counting,
I climbed and climbed once more,
Till at last I found you,
Dear Valentine,
And stole my arms around you,
And knew your heart was mine.

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Mike Pearson

This text was added to the website: 2015-04-08
Line count: 32
Word count: 150