|My jewel of the world, she sleeps so fast, She will not hear you, Spring wind, if you blow; So let you shake the blossoms of the thorn till her bed is hidden deep in Easter snow. Bright jewel of my heart, she sleeps at last, O kind earth, wrap her round in your brown shawl. Sing soft to her and rock her in your arms so she'll not be lonesome after me at all. I hear the childher laugh as they run past, They see their mother watching at the door; It's long I'll wait beside the lonely hearth, For there's sorra child of mine will cross the floor. O thorn trees round her grave, now let you cast your snow upon the place she takes her rest. The while I stay and cheat my heart with dreams that I'm holding her again upon my breast.
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