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
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!