Upon the bridge she stood,

With wild flowers in her ringlets,

And in her hand her hood.

The morn laid on her features

An envious golden kiss;

She might have fancied truly,

I longed to share its bliss.

[Pg 7]

I said, "O, lovely maiden,

I have sought you many a day.

That I love you, love you, love you,

Is all that I can say."

Her mournful eyes grew brighter,

And archly glanced, though meek.

A bacchanalian dimple

Dipt a wine-cup in her cheek.

"If you love me, love me, love me,

If you love me as you say,

You must prove it, prove it, prove it!"

And she lightly turned away.

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