I’ll try again to-morrow.”
The minstrel came again next night,
The lady was not sleeping!
She slily (tho’ she veil’d the light)
Was thro’ her casement peeping.
She heard him fondly breathe her name,
Then saw him go with sorrow;
And cried, “I wonder whence he came?
Perhaps he’ll come to-morrow.”
Again she heard the sweet guitar,—