‘ T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou
No station in the day?
‘ T was not thy wont to hinder so, —
Retrieve thine industry.
‘ T is noon, my little maid, alas!
And art thou sleeping yet?
The lily waiting to be wed,
The bee, dost thou forget?
My little maid,‘ t is night; alas,
That night should be to thee
Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached
Thy little plan to me,
Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,
I might have aided thee.