1. Though gentle were her words, her heart
I doubted not was filled with smart

2. The moon himself with envy burns
And yearns her virtues to impart

3. When she turned from me in disdain
Hopeless I cried, oh tell me when

4. Will you be kind, she answered “Nay!
I am a wild young gazelle, and men

5. Like you will weary soon and turn away.”
With that one word such longing in me grew