WE were playing on the green together, My sweetheart and I— O! so heedless in the gay
June weather When the word went forth that we must die. O! so merrily the balls of amber And of ivory
toss’d we to the sky, While the word went forth in the King’s chamber That we both must die.
O! so idly straying thro’ the pleasaunce Pluck’d we here and there Fruit and bud, while in the
royal presence The King’s son was casting from his hair Glory of the wreathen gold that crown’d it, And,
ungirdling all his garments fair, Flinging by the jewell’d clasp that bound it, With his feet made bare.
Down the myrtled stairway of the palace, Ashes on his head, Came he, thro’ the rose and
citron alleys, In rough sark of sackcloth habited, And in the hempen halter—O! we jested Lightly, and we
laugh’d as he was led To the torture, while the bloom we breasted Where the grapes grew red.
O! so sweet the birds, when he was dying, Piped to her and me— Is no room this glad June
day for sighing— He is dead, and she and I go free! When the sun shall set on all our pleasure We will
mourn him—What, so you decree We are heartless? Nay, but in what measure Do you more than we?