When the thorn is white with blossom,
And the fountain flows again,
Tell me, mother, must I fly him
If he seek me on the plain;
Or the meadow where the primrose first is found,
And beneath the spreading beeches
Many a violet decks the ground,
When the thorn is white with blossom
And the fountain flows again.
Should I at the fall of twilight
Hear afar his flute's soft lays,--
Mother, must I close the lattice
If I know for me he plays;
On the willow where engrav'd I find my name,
If I linger long to read it,
Shall I hear my mother blame;
When the thorn is white with blossom,
And the fountain flows again.
Tell me if a dewy garland
Hang beside thy summer bower,
Twin'd with leaves of fragrant myrtle,
And each fairest early flower,
Must it wither, if I know he placed it there?
Mother, tell me, would you chide me,
If I bound it round my hair?
When the thorn is white with blossom,
And the fountain flows again.
_Variations, Violin._
"Hillì Milli Puniah," (an East Indian air,) VALDARES.