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BETWEEN wheatfield and corn,Between hedgerow and thorn,Between pasture and tree,Where's my sweetheartTell it me!

But he roused himself up from his startling dream, and then slowlyTurn'd tow'rd the village his steps, and once more started,--for once moreSaw he the noble maiden's stately figure approaching.Fixedly gazed he; it was no phantom in truth; she herself 'twasIn her hands by the handle she carried two pitchers,--one larger,One of a smaller size, and nimbly walk'd to the fountain.And he joyfully went to meet her; the sight of her gave himCourage and strength, and so he address'd the surprised one as follows:--"Do I find you again, brave maiden, engaged in assistingOthers so soon, and in giving refreshment to those who may need it?Tell me why you have come all alone to the spring so far distant,Whilst the rest are content with the water that's found in the village?This one, indeed, special virtue possesses, and pleasant to drink is.Is't for the sake of that sick one you come, whom you saved with such courage?"

With many a youthful pair,--Then other moons had birth,