Posies at even

T’was down in the cow pasture just at the gloaming
I met a young woman sweet tempered & mild,
I said “Pretty maiden say where are you roving?”
“I'm walking at even,” she answered & smiled
“Here my sweetheart & I gathered posies at even
Its eight years ago since they sent him to sea.
Wild flowers hung with dew are like angels from heaven
They look up in my face and keep whispering to me.”

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