TO A CATY-DID

In a branch of willow hid

Sings the evening Caty-did:

From the lofty locust bough

Feeding on a drop of dew,

In her suit of green array'd

Hear her singing in the shade

Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did!

While upon a leaf you tread,

Or repose your little head,

On your sheet of shadows laid,

All the day you nothing said:

Half the night your cheery tongue

Revell'd out its little song,

Nothing else but Caty-did.

From your lodgings on the leaf

Did you utter joy or grief —?

Did you only mean to say,

I have had my summer's day,

And am passing, soon, away

To the grave of Caty-did:—

Poor, unhappy Caty-did!

But you would have utter'd more

Had you known of nature's power —

From the world when you retreat,

And a leaf's your winding sheet,

Long before your spirit fled,

Who can tell but nature said,

Live again, my Caty-did!

Live, and chatter Caty-did.

Tell me, what did Caty do?

Did she mean to trouble you?—

Why was Caty not forbid

To trouble little Caty-did?—

Wrong, indeed at you to fling,

Hurting no one while you sing

Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

Why continue to complain?

Caty tells me, she again

Will not give you plague or pain:—

Caty says you may be hid

Caty will not go to bed

While you sing us Caty-did.

Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

But, while singing, you forgot

To tell us what did Caty not:

Caty-did not think of cold,

Flocks retiring to the fold,

Winter, with his wrinkles old,

Winter, that yourself foretold

When you gave us Caty-did.

Stay securely in your nest;

Caty now, will do her best,

All she can, to make you blest;

But, you want no human aid —

Nature, when she form'd you, said,

“Independent you are made,

My dear little Caty-did:

Soon yourself must disappear

With the verdure of the year,” —

And to go, we know not where,

With your song of Caty-did.