That all the world may know
I falsehood loved too long.
The willow-tree will twist,
The willow-tree will twine,
I wish I was in that dear youth's arms
That once had this heart of mine.
The gardener he stood by,
And warned me to take care;
For in the midst of a red rosebud
There grows a sharp thorn there.
I said I'd take no care,
Till I did feel the smart;
And when I plucked the red rosebud,
It pierced me to the heart.
Now I'll make a hyssop posy,
No other can I touch;
For all the world do plainly see
I loved one flower too much.
My garden is now run wild;
Where shall I plant anew?
My bed, that once was thick with thyme,
Is now o'errun with rue.
THE "CHYLDE OF HALE."
John Middleton, the "Chylde of Hale," was born at the village of Hale, in the parish of Childwall, during 1578, and was buried in the churchyard of Hale in 1623. His gravestone is yet shown about the centre of the south aisle, with the following inscription upon it in letters run in with lead:—"Here lyeth the bodye of John Middleton, the Chylde of Hale. Born A.D. 1578. Dyed A.D. 1623." He is said to have been nine feet three inches in height; his hand measured seventeen inches from the carpus to the end of the middle finger; and the breadth of his palm was eight inches and a half.
