Down in My Sally's Garden

Down in my Sally's garden,
Upon an ivy bush,
At morning and at twilight,
There sings a sweet song thrush.

His notes come clearly ringing,
And tidings to me tell,
And oh, l know already
My Sally loves me well.

l kissed her milk-white features
One silv'ry eve of May;
She whispered, "Won't you wander
Until the close of day?"

We wandered in her garden,
The flowers were wet with dew,
I saw the love-light beaming
In her fond eyes of blue.

Down in my Sally's garden,
Where snowy hawthorns blow,
My heart became love-weary
When I at last must go.

The bloom was on the hawthorn
That night l said farewell;
l left my SaIIy weeping
Down by an ivied dell.

From Songs of the People, Sam Henry
Note: This may -- or may not -- have been the original of Yeat's
poem; there's a closer fit in a song called "The Rambling Boys
of Pleasure."
See also Sally Gardens
RG