She felt so lonely, was not glad,
And when next year the stork she had,
Who late and early came and started,
Her wish to ride next time imparted.
He answered, “Come then, naught detaining!
’Twas stupid to refuse last year;
Not now the same good mother gaining
As he, the boy thou held so dear,
For she beneath the turf is sleeping;
But come, my little dove, now keeping