s

    horn you see,

    So fress beauteous dyes,

    Is like an infants grave in size

    As like as like can be:

    But never, never any where,

    An infants grave was half so fair.

    VI.

    Nohorn,

    teous hill of moss,

    You must take care and cime

    tain wo cross.

    For oft ts, bethe heap

    ts like an infants grave in size,

    And t same pond of which I spoke,

    A  cloak,

    And to herself she cries,

    quot;Oh misery! oh misery!

    quot;O;

    VII.

    At all times of t

    tcher goes,

    And so every star,

    And every  blows;

    And ts

    s in the skies,

    And whe hill,

    Or frosty air is keen and still,

    And to herself she cries,

    quot;Oh misery! oh misery!

    quot;O;

    VIII.

    quot;Now w,

    quot;In rain, in tempest, and in snow,

    quot;to tain-top

    quot;Does this poor woman go?

    quot;And ws shorn

    quot;s in the sky,

    quot;Or whe hill,

    quot;Or frosty air is keen and still,

    quot;And wherefore does she cry?--

    quot;Oell me why

    quot;Does s t doleful cry?quot;

    IX.

    I cannot tell; I wish I could;

    For true reason no one knows,

    But if youd gladly vie,

    t to which she goes;

    ts like an infants grave,

    thorn, so old and grey,

    Pass by is seldom s--

    And if you see ,

    to t away!--

    I never heard of such as dare