"Give me my bow," said Robin Hood, "An arrow give to me;
And where 't is shot mark thou that spot, For there my grave shall be."Then Little John did make no sign, And not a word he spake;
But he smiled, altho' with mickle woe His heart was like to break.
He raised his master in his arms, And set him on his knee;
And Robin's eyes beheld the skies, The shaws, the greenwood tree.
The brook was babbling as of old, The birds sang full and clear,
And the wild-flowers gay like a carpet lay In the path of the timid deer."O Little John," said Robin Hood, "Meseemeth now to
Standing with you so stanch and true Under the greenwood tree."And all around I hear the sound Of Sherwood long ago,
And my merry men come back again,— You know, sweet friend, you know!"Now mark this arrow; where it falls, When I am dead dig deep,
And bury me there in the greenwood where I would forever sleep."He twanged his bow.
Upon its course The clothyard arrow sped,
And when it fell in yonder dell, Brave Robin Hood was dead.
The sheriff sleeps in a marble vault, The king in a shroud of gold;
And upon the air with a chanted pray'r Mingles the mock of mould.
But the deer draw to the shady pool, The birds sing blithe and free,
And the wild-flow'rs bloom o'er a hidden tomb Under the greenwood tree.
