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Dancing At Whitsun
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1
It's fifty long springtimes since she was a bride,
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But still you may see her at each Whitsuntide
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In a dress of white linen with ribbons of green,
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As green as her memories of loving.
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The feet that were nimble tread carefully now,
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As gentle a measure as age will allow,
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Through groves of white blossoms, by fields of young
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Corn,
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Where once she was pledged to her true-love.
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The fields they stand empty, the hedges grow (go) free--
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No young men to turn them or pastures go see (seed)
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They are gone where the forest of oak trees before
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Have gone, to be wasted in battle.
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Down from the green farmlands and from their loved ones
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Marched husbands and brothers and fathers and sons.
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There's a fine roll of honor where the Maypole once
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Stood,
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And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun.
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There's a straight row of houses in these latter days
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All covering the downs where the sheep used to graze.
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There's a field of red poppies (a gift from the Queen)
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But the ladies remember at Whitsun,
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And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun.
Dancing At Whitsun
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