 | The Ballad of Babie Bell And Other Poems |  |
36
PERDITA.
1.
Poet, shape a song for meOf troubled love, of jealousy,
Of sick conceit;
But make its rhymes as sad and sweet
As parting kisses be!
2.
Sing me merry, when I'm gay;But touch a mournful string to-day;
The birds have flown,
Save one, the Wind, that maketh moan—
Perdita's gone away!
| The Ballad of Babie Bell And Other Poems | |