Lute Song

A poem by Madison Julius Cawein

What will you send her,
What will you tell her,
That shall unbend her,
That shall compel her?

Love, that shall fold her
So naught can sever;
Truth, that shall hold her
Ever and ever.

What will you do then
So she 'll ne' er grieve you?
Knowing you true then
Never will leave you?

I 'll lay before here,
There in her bower,
Aye to adore her,
My heart like a flower.

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