Long evenings full on longing
Low-spirited my mornings
Full of longing too my nights
And all times the bitterest.
'tis my lovely I long for
It is my darling I miss
My black-browed one I grieve for.

There's no hearing my treasure
No seeing my marten-breat
No hearing her in the lane
Driving below the window
Chopping the wood by the stack
Clinking outside the cook-house:

In the eart my berry lies
In the soil she's mouldering
Under the sand my sweet one
Beneath the grass my treasure
The one I grieve for.

• Against Widows
• Better Unborn
• Cares
• Elegy
• My Kantele
• On Rich & Poor
• Song of The Troubled One
• The Orphan
• Weeper on The Shore