A little black thing among the snow:
Crying weep, weep in notes of woe!
"Where are thy father and mother? say?"
"They are both gone up to the church to pray.
"Because I was happy upon the heath,
And smiled among the winters snow:
They clothed me in the clothes of death,
And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
"And because I am happy and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury:
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King,
Who make up a heaven of our misery."