I thought the Train would never come —
How slow the whistle sang —
I don't believe a peevish Bird
So whimpered for the Spring —
I taught my Heart a hundred times
Precisely what to say —
Provoking Lover, when you came
Its Treatise flew away
To hide my strategy too late
...
It would never be Common — more — I said —
Difference — had begun —
Many a bitterness — had been —
But that old sort — was done —
Or — if it sometime — showed — as 'twill —
Upon the Downiest — Morn —
Such bliss — had I — for all the years —
'Twould give an Easier — pain —
...