I Love Thee, Sweet Mary, But Love Thee In Fear; Were I But The Morning Breeze, Healthy And Airy, As Thou Goest A Walking I'd Breathe In Thine Ear, And Whisper And Sigh How I Love Thee, My Mary! I Wish But To Touch Thee, But Wish It In Vain; Wert Thou But A Streamlet A Winding So Clearly, And I Little Globules Of Soft Dropping Rain, How Fond Would I Press Thy White Bosom, My Mary! I Would Steal A Kiss, But I Dare Not Presume; Wert Thou But A Rose In Thy Garden, Sweet Fairy, And I A Bold Bee For To Rifle Its Bloom, A Whole Summer'S Day Would I Kiss Thee, My Mary!! I Long To Be With Thee, But Cannot Tell How; Wert Thou But The Elder That Grows By Thy Dairy, And I The Blest Woodbine To Twine On The Bough, I'd Embrace Thee And Cling To Thee Ever, My Mary!