The hills far-off were blue, blue, The hills at hand were brown; And all the herd-bells called to me As I came by the down.
The briars turned to roses, roses; Ever we stayed to pull A white little rose, and a red little rose, And a lock of silver wool.
Nobody heeded, — none, none; And when True Love came by, They thought him naught but the shepherd-boy. Nobody knew but I!
The trees were feathered like birds, birds; Birds were in every tree. Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard, Nobody knew, save me.
And he is fairer than all — all. How could a heart go wrong? For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine, Like an old, old song.