In a branch of willow hid Sings the evening Caty-did: From the lofty locust bough Feeding on a drop of dew,
In her suit of green array'd Hear her singing in the shade Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did! While upon a leaf you tread,
Or repose your little head, On your sheet of shadows laid, All the day you nothing said: Half the night your cheery tongue
Revell'd out its little song, Nothing else but Caty-did. From your lodgings on the leaf Did you utter joy or grief —?
Did you only mean to say, I have had my summer's day, And am passing, soon, away To the grave of Caty-did:—
Poor, unhappy Caty-did! But you would have utter'd more Had you known of nature's power — From the world when you retreat,
And a leaf's your winding sheet, Long before your spirit fled, Who can tell but nature said, Live again, my Caty-did!
Live, and chatter Caty-did. Tell me, what did Caty do? Did she mean to trouble you?— Why was Caty not forbid
To trouble little Caty-did?— Wrong, indeed at you to fling, Hurting no one while you sing Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!
Why continue to complain? Caty tells me, she again Will not give you plague or pain:— Caty says you may be hid
Caty will not go to bed While you sing us Caty-did. Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did! But, while singing, you forgot
To tell us what did Caty not: Caty-did not think of cold, Flocks retiring to the fold, Winter, with his wrinkles old,
Winter, that yourself foretold When you gave us Caty-did. Stay securely in your nest; Caty now, will do her best,
All she can, to make you blest; But, you want no human aid — Nature, when she form'd you, said, “Independent you are made,
My dear little Caty-did: Soon yourself must disappear With the verdure of the year,” — And to go, we know not where,
With your song of Caty-did.
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