THE LOVE-SICK MAID.

The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid,

Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid?

Can the doctor cure her woe

When she will not let him know

Why the tears incessant flow

From the love-sick maid?

The flaunting day, the flaunting day,

She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day!

For she sits and pines alone,

And will comfort take from none;

Nay, the very colour's gone

From the love-sick maid.

The secret 's out, the secret 's out,

A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out!

For she finds at e'ening's hour,

In a rosy woodland bower,

Charms worth a prince's dower

To a love-sick maid.