Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail,
And know'st not yet what thou dost ail?
Come, little wretch! Ah! silly heart,
Mine only joy, what can I more?
If there be any wrong thy smart,
That may the destinies implore,
'Twas I, I say, against my will--
I wail the time, but be thou still.
And dost thou smile? O thy sweet face!
Would God Himself He might thee see!