The May-tree

A MAY-TREE fair at Whitsuntide Was brought me by my lover, It was the fairest pine he could In all the grove discover.

E’en as a fish’s eye the moon Doth in my chamber shine, I see him from the window, and His feelings well divine.

He at the window knock’d, and ‘Grant, O grant one kiss!’ he cried, But like a little mouse beneath The coverlet I hide.

Right eye above the coverlet Seems fast asleep to be, Left eye beneath the coverlet Laughs at him merrily.

He calls again; not so the stag Thirsts for the cooling tide, Not so the bee that longing seeks For honey far and wide. But in my chamber ’twas as still, As though a grave it were, Only the beating of my heart Betray’d that I was there.

Long time he knocked, long time he call’d, At length the suer went, His lovely voice though conquer’d me, And to the window sent.

A little bit I raise it up, I think that he is fled— He catches me, he kisses me, Until my neck is red.