Along the field as we came by 
A year ago, my love and I, 
The aspen over stile and stone 
Was talking to itself alone. 

'Oh who are these that kiss and pass? 
A country lover and his lass; 
Two lovers looking to be wed; 
And time shall put them both to bed, 

But she shall lie with earth above, 
And he beside another love.' 
And sure enough beneath the tree 
There walks another love with me, 

And overhead the aspen heaves 
Its rainy-sounding silver leaves; 
And I spell nothing in their stir, 
But now perhaps they speak to her, 

And plain for her to understand 
They talk about a time at hand 
When I shall sleep with clover clad, 
And she beside another lad.