Say, little girl, what have I done to thee,
What have I done to thee that thou art dumb?
Oft wouldst thou seek me once, such friends were we,
But now thou goest away whene'er I come.
If thou hast missed in aught, why quick, confess it,
For thee this heart will all, yes all, forgive;
If miss be mine, contrive that I should guess it;
And soon the thing shall finish, as I live!
The dutiful lover rings all the changes on humble remonstrance:
I go where I may see thee all alone,