Fie! moping still by the sleepy brook?
Little Miss Pussy, how dull you look!
Prithee, throw off that cloak of brown,
And give me a glimpse of your gray silken gown!
My gray silken gown, Sir Wind, is done,
Put its golden fringes are not quite spun.
What a slow little spinner! pray, pardon me,
But I have had time to cross the sea.
Haste forth, dear Miss Pussy! the sky is blue,
And I’ve a secret to whisper to you.