Green, green, The grass by the river-bank. Thick, thick, The willow trees in the garden. Sad, sad, The lady in the tower. White, white, Sitting at the casement window. Fair, fair, Her red-powdered face. Small, small, She puts out her pale hand. Once she was a dancing-house girl. Now she is a wandering man’s wife. The wandering man went, but did not return. It is hard alone to keep an empty bed.