Daughter of the Landlord

She sighed and wearily combed her long hair.
The moon was golden in the velvet sky.
One could taste the ice in the winter air,
And feel her yearning for him to pass by.

Too long was the time since his last calling;
Too long the season since last did they meet. 
Here in the dark with all the snow falling,
Her heart took flight at the sounds from the street

The champ at the bit; the tramp of the hooves;
The sweet swallow's song from out in the snow.
Her heart beating softly as wings of doves;
Listening hard for the voice down below.

Then came his whistle, as soft as a bird;
Now flying skyward, now diving down low,
Now quiet as death, but yet she still heard.
She sprang to the window, face all aglow.

They spoke in hushed whispers, always dreading,
The sharp ears of spies, traitors or redcoats,
The news of their secret quickly spreading,
And the noose or knife dispatching their throats.

The moon shone like silver; his time to leave.
She reached for his hand and begged him to stay.
He smiled and entreated her not to grieve,
"I'll always return, though hell bar the way."

Pain fills her breast as his horse disappears.
How soon will she see him; days, months or years?

The end of her tale, I cringe to provide:
She and her highwayman lived, loved and died.