JACK AND JILL

We played beside the little rill

That flows to larger river;

We heard the mating mocking-birds trill,

The robins piped upon the hill,

And Cupid strung his little bow and filled his little quiver:

Then she, we played, was little Jill,

And I was Jack, her lover.

But floating down the little stream

Toward the larger river,

The rippling of the waves did seem

The fading music of a dream,

For Cupid broke his silver bow and lost his golden quiver;

And Jill forgot the hour supreme

When I was Jack, her lover.