THE LOVER'S ALMANAC
157
On Thursday, brave and daring,
I vowed I'd speak her fair,
She turned her glances from me,
And passed me, head in air.
All pale on Friday morning
I waited by her path,
She flashed her eyes upon me,
And pierced me with their wrath.
On Saturday, if that day
Should ever dawn for me,
I'll die for cruel Chloris
Beneath the cypress-tree.
157
