Analysis of The Betrothal

Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad,
   And love me if you like.
   I shall not hear the door shut
   Nor the knocker strike.  
   Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts,
   And wed me if you will.
   I'd make a man a good wife,
   Sensible and still.  
   And why should I be cold, my lad,
  And why should you repine,
  Because I love a dark head
  That never will be mine?  

I might as well be easing you
  As lie alone in bed
  And waste the night in wanting
  A cruel dark head.  

You might as well be calling yours
  What never will be his,
  And one of us be happy.
  There's few enough as is.