The Wild Duck Fly Over From River To River And So The Young Lover Goes Roving For Ever. They Fly Together, He Walks Alone: No Maiden Can Tether Him With Her Moan. At The Bursting Of Blossom On Her Breast His Head; He Has Left Her Bosom Ere The Apples Are Red. Across The Valley, Singing He Goes. In Highway And Alley He Seeks A New Rose. Tell Me, O Maidens, You Who All Day In Lyrical Cadence Dance And Play, Why Do You Proffer Your Sweets To One, Who Takes All You Offer And Leaves You To Moan?