VIIMy love is in a light attireAmong the apple-trees,Where the gay winds do most desireTo run in companies.There, where the gay winds stay to wooThe young leaves as they pass,My love goes slowly, bending toHer shadow on the grass;And where the sky’s a pale blue cupOver the laughing land,My love goes lightly, holding upHer dress with dainty hand.
My love is in a light attireAmong the apple-trees,Where the gay winds do most desireTo run in companies.There, where the gay winds stay to wooThe young leaves as they pass,My love goes slowly, bending toHer shadow on the grass;And where the sky’s a pale blue cupOver the laughing land,My love goes lightly, holding upHer dress with dainty hand.