1
Oh why did he go!
I meant not to refuse him,
How could he think so?
For worlds I would not lose him;
But alas! he’s flown from me,
Boasting that his heart is free,
And I ne’er shall see
His sweet face again —
Again, again,
His sweet face again.
Oh silly! thus to lose
A heart once my own,
His proferr’d hand refuse
To pine thus alone.
Ah me, alone! — ah me, alone!
2
Oh what shall I do,
My lost swain to recover?
I’d ever prove true,
All trifling should be over;
And no more with frown or flaunt,
Angry look or peevish taunt,
His sly love to daunt
For yes, I’d say nay;
Oh no! oh no!
No tricks I’d display.
Then prithee, dearest Youth,
In pity return;
Receive my plighted truth,
My penitence learn.
Ah me, return! — ah me, return!