XIV
Unwarned
‘T is sunrise, little maid, hast thouNo 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 theeInstead of morning! Hadst thou broachedThy little plan to me,Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,I might have aided thee.