Lost Thyme.
Come, all you tender maidens there,
that flourish in your prime.
Take care to keep your garden fair
that no man steal your thyme.
Once I did have a sprig of thyme,
that flourished night and day
until there came a false young man
who stole my thyme away.
And now, alas, my thyme is gone
and I can plant no new
while that place where my thyme did grow
is over-run with rue.
Now, rue it has deep running roots
that flourish night and day.
I wish that young man would return
who stole my thyme away.
Come back, you false young lover and
don’t leave me to complain.
The grass that’s trodden underfoot
in time will grow again
but thyme, that’s once been broken down,
we hope to heal in vain.
Traditional. (Arr. Hugh Wyles, March 18th. 2009.)
Author notes
From an old English folksong.
In a list
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Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Simple and beautiful.
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Dear Hugh,
A beautifully written poem Hugh, one that I think most of us can relate to sometime in our life. Falling in love only to find the other turns to a new love and we never seem to forget them, first love is like that. Wonderful my dear friend.
Love Bea
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This is wonderful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Ahhh, this is lovely dear Hugh and so true, once the thyme has gone the years fly by and thyme is lost forever.
A beautiful poem my dear, I am never disappointed with any of your poems, they are all delightful.
Love Jen
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I like this
It reminds me of many other folk songs, where one thing represents another; particularly, in Ukrainian songs, a girl's flower wreath stands for her virginity. In one song, a mother tells her daughter not to give away her wreath until he gives her a towel (wedding ceremony).
I like the repetition, this is a timeless ballad.
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Beautiful beautiful old man Thyme. None so sweet or smelling so delightful. Love it.
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