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.