The Meeting Place
I MIND me of the hawthorn trees,
With cuckoos flying near ;
The hawthorn blossoms smelt so sweet,
The cuckoo called so clear!
The hill was steep enough to climb.
It seemed to touch the sky!
You saw two valleys from the top,
The Severn and the Wye.
The Severn and the Wye you saw,
And they were always green ;
I think it was the prettiest sight
That I have ever seen.
And there, so far above the town.
With not a soul to see.
Whenever she could slip away
My love would come to me!
I never smell the hawthorn bloom,
Or hear the cuckoo sing,
But I am minded of my love.
And Malvern Hills in Spring!
