UNWARNED.

‘ T is sunrise, little maid, hast thou

No station in the day?

‘ T was not thy wont to hinder so, —

Retrieve thine industry.

‘ T is noon, my little maid, alas!

And art thou sleeping yet?

The lily waiting to be wed,

The bee, dost thou forget?

My little maid,‘ t is night; alas,

That night should be to thee

Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached

Thy little plan to me,

Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,

I might have aided thee.