At the muslined lattice in the drooping eve,
Whisper from the casement
If that blushing face meant,
“At the cottage basement,
Gallant, halt, I come to thee; I come to never leave.”
But if those coy lashes
Stir for whoso dashes
Past the scented window in the fading light,
Close the lattice, sweetest;
Darkness were discreetest;