The Jonquil Maid

A little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree,
            Singing alone,
            In a low love-tone,
And the wind swept by with a wistful moan;
        For he longed to stay
        With the Maid all day;
            But he knew
            As he blew
            It was true
            That the dew
        Would never, never dry
        If the wind should die;
So he hurried away where the rosebuds grew.
And while to the Land of the Rose went he,
            Singing alone,
            In a low love-tone,
A Little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree.

The Little Maid's eyes had a rainbow hue,
        And her sunset hair
        Was woven with care
In a knot that was fit for a Psyche to wear;
        And she pressed her lips
        With her finger tips,
            Threw a sly
            Kiss to try
            If he'd sigh
            In reply,
        And said with a laugh,
        "Oh, it's not one half
As sweet as I give when there's Some One nigh."
And while to the Rosebud Land went he,
            Singing alone,
            In a low love-tone,
A Little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree.

The wind swept back to the Jonquil Tree
        At the close of day,
        In the twilight gray;
But the sweet Little Maid had stolen away;
        And whither she's flown
        Will never be known
            Till the Rose
            As it blows
            Shall disclose
            All it knows
        Of the Maid so fair
        With the sunset hair.
And the sad wind comes and sighs and goes,
And dreams of the day when he blew so free,
        When singing alone,
        In a low love-tone,
A Little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree.