To a Devonshire Maiden Sojourning in London.
O, bright Lent Lily with the golden hair,1
Why art thou only lent and wilt not stay ?2
Thou art so wonderfully bright and fair,3
My sunshine goes if thou but turn away,4
Lent Lily !5
Thy smile is welcome : though it come in Lent,6
The gayest festival it well might grace.7
There’s not a fast but as a feast is spent,8
Only in gazing on thy laughing face,9
Lent Lily.10
Why must thou go ?— Why art thou only lent ?11
Oh, not a loan but a free gift I crave.12
Only thyself, dear Lily, will content13
This heart, possessed by ne’er a mortal save14
Lent Lily.15