If I could bribe¹ them by a Rose
I'd bring them every flower that grows
From Amherst to Cashmere!
I would not stop for night, or storm --
Or frost, or death, or anyone --
My business were so dear!

If they would linger for a Bird
My Tambourin were soonest heard
Among the April Woods!
Unwearied, all the summer long,
Only to break in wilder song
When Winter shook the boughs²!

What if they hear me!
Who shall say
That such an importunity
May not at last avail?

That, weary of this Beggar's face --
They may not finally say, Yes --
To drive her from the Hall?

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