In black bushes my bower shall be. In paradise is plenty of play, Fair fruits in right great plenty. The gates be shut with God's key. My husband is lost because of me 385 Beloved spouse, now have you found That we stumble o'er stalk and stone. My wits away from me are gone Twist on to my neck bone With the hardness of thy hand.
Dear woman turn thy thoughts.
I will not slay the flesh of my flesh For from my flesh, thy flesh was wrought. Our sin a long sorrow now has bought. In woe my tears to wail. But let us walk forth into the land With right great labour our food to find 410 With delving and digging with my hand Our bliss to care and pain confined. Till some comfort God shall send 415 With grace to relieve our carefull minds.