I never expected you, Kit, to say “No”
In tones that would ring through the hall.
You dreamt not—how should you, of course?—that the sound
Of your voice would be heard far and wide,
But I did feel a fool when a titter went round
As we walked to your chaperon’s side.
A beautiful maiden was never yet won,
’Tis said, by a faint-hearted swain;
And so, Mistress Kit, ere the season is done
I am sure to approach you again.