Caroline Alice Elgar, née Roberts (1848-1920), "False love"
Now we hear the Spring's sweet voice
Singing gladly through the world;
Bidding all the earth rejoice.
All is merry in the field,
Flowers grow amidst the grass,
Blossoms blue, red, white they yield.
As I seek my maiden true,
Sings the little lark on high
Fain to send her praises due.
As I climb and reach her door,
Ah! I see a rival there,
So farewell! for evermore.
Ever true was I to thee,
Never grieved or vexed thee, love,
False, oh! false, art thou of me.
Now amid the forest green,
Far from cruel eyes that mock
Will I dwell unloved, unseen
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