A PROBLEM.
75
A PROBLEM.
Y darling has a merry eye,And voice like silver bells:
How shall I win her, prithee, say;—
By what magic spells?
If I frown, she shakes her head
If I weep, she smiles:
Time would fail me to recount
All her wilful wiles.
If I weep, she smiles:
Time would fail me to recount
All her wilful wiles.
She flouts me so,—he stings me so,—
Yet will not let me stir,—
In vain I try to pass her by,
My little chestnut bur.
Yet will not let me stir,—
In vain I try to pass her by,
My little chestnut bur.
