You for a gala-greeting fit, Even, of youth's adorning! Why do you haste, half out of breath? Is it a mission of life or death? Or do you fly from fervent arms Reckless to clasp your blossomed charms, Oh, I am going-nobody knowing, (Save you here who have asked the showing) Thus it will say: "I loved you well, Margerie, Margerie, unwed dame, Tragedies wait revealing! Well do I know your words have sway Born of the April's first-born day: You do not mean the words you say- Welcomer ones concealing. With some fancy that fancy meets, Well do I know he will frantic be, When he has conned this word from me: Well do I know he will toil to find Reasons that maybe would change my mind! Well will he flaunt his scorning Of that one that I hold more dear: |