Copyright, 1875, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.
Words by Jean Ingelow. Music by Horatio C. King.
Midsummer night, not dark, not light, dusk all the scented air,
I'll e'en go forth to one I love, and learn how he doth fare;
The ring, the ring, my dear, for me-the ring was a world too fine;
I wish it had sunk in a forty-fathom sea, or ever thou mad'st it mine;
I wish it had sunk in a forty-fathom sea, or ever thou mad'st it mine.
Soft falls the dew, stars tremble through, where lone he sits apart;
Would I might steal his grief away to hide in mine own heart;
Would 'twere shut in you blossom fair, the sorrow that bows thy head,
Then I would pluck it, to thee unaware, and break my heart in thy stead.
That charmed flower, far from thy bower, I'll bear the long hours through;
Thou should'st forget, and my sad breast the sorrows twain should rue;
Oh sad, sad flower, sad ring to me. the ring was a world too fine;
And would it had sunk in a forty-fathom sea ere the morn that made it mine,
And would it had sunk in a forty-fathom sea ere the morn that made it mine.