Robin Hood's Good-Night

Good-night, good-night, Heart's Dearest. The Hunter holds the sky. 
There wakes no soul in Sherwood save Little John and I. 
'Twixt thee and me the grasses grow thick and soft and green, 
And falls a drift of hawthorn above thee for a screen — 
'Twixt thee and me. Heart's Dearest, the grass is green. 

Shall I not soon. Heart's Dearest, good-morrow to thee say,
And kiss thy lips of kisses forlorn for many a day? 
Shall I bid thee good-morrow, good-night to Little John, 
And lay me down beside thee to slumber sweetly on — 
Nor dream of lonely Sherwood, nor Little John? 

Shall we go seek. Heart's Dearest, that land of afternoon, 
Where lovers to their lasses pipe out a sleepy tune? 
Where care may never enter, and love grow never cold — 
Where Allan walks, a-harping a tune we knew of old? 
Shall we not journey thither, O heart of gold?