Verse 1I hoed and trenched and weeded,
And took the flowers to fair:
I brought them home unheeded;
The hue was not the wear.
Verse 2So up and down I sow them
For lads like me to find,
When I shall lie below them,
A dead man out of mind.
Verse 3Some seeds the birds devour,
And some the season mars,
But here and there will flower
The solitary stars,
Verse 4And fields will yearly bear them
As light-leaved spring comes on,
And luckless lads will wear them
When I am dead and gone.
