The Other Lover
   I’m home from off the stormy sea,
      And down the street
   The folk come out to welcome me
      On eager feet.
O neighbours, God be with you all,
But for my true love I must call;
She lingers in her father’s hall
      So shy, so sweet!
   Here is a string of milky pearls
      For her to wear,
   An amber comb to match the curls
      Of her bright hair.
O neighbours, do not crowd me sol
Stand by! stand by! for I must go
To put on my love’s hand of snow
      This gold ring fair.
   Good dame, why do you block the way
      And shake your head?
   Must all the things you have to say
      Just now be said?
O neighbours, let me pass—but why—
My God, what makes you women cry?
Come tell me that I too may die!
      Is my love dead?
   “Nay, Marjorie’s a living thing,
      And fair and strong.
   Yet did you wait to give your ring
      A year too long.
To seek her love there came the Moon;
Now Marjorie at night and noon
Is chained and sits alone to croon
      The Moon’s love-sons.”

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (
Created April 5, 2001; not revised.