(AFTER VICTOR HUGO.)
Pretty one, tho' the morning is breaking
Thy lattice is fasten'd close
How is it that thou art not waking
When awake is the rose?
Darling, arise! for I am he
Thy lover who sighs and sings to thee,
Thy lover who sighs and sings to thee.
Nature loud at thy lattice is beating:
I am Day says the morning above