O stay, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wadtouch her heart
Whakills me wi’disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nochtbutlove and sorrow join’d,
Sicnotes o’ woe could wauken!
Thou tells o’never-ending care;
O’speechless grief, and dark despair:
For pity’s sake, sweet bird, naemair!
Ormy poor heart is broken.
