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Alma Strettell - Gipsy Song Lyrics

There where the path to the plain goes by
Where deep in the thicket my hut doth lie
Where corn stands green in the garden plot
The brook ripples by so clearly there
The way is open so white and fair
My heart’s best beloved he takes it not

There where I sit by my door and spin
While morning winds that blow out and in
With scent of roses enfold the spot
When at evening I softly sing my lay
That the wand’rer hears as the goes his way
My heart’s best beloved he hears me not

There where on Sundays I go alone
To the old, old well with the milk-white stone
Where by the fence in a nook forgot
Rises a spring in the daisied grass
That make who drinks of it love alas!
My heart’s best beloved he drinks it not

There by my window where day by day
When the sunbeams first brighten the morning’s grey
I lean and dream of my weary lot
And wait his coming and softly cry
Because of love’s longing that makes one die
My heart’s best beloved he dieth not