4 Motivations for Baritone and Piano

The days are cold, the nights are long,
The north-wind sings a [doleful]1 song;
Then hush again upon my breast;
All merry things are now at rest,
  Save thee, my pretty Love!

The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,
The crickets long have ceased their mirth;
There's nothing stirring in the house
Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse,
  Then why so busy thou?

Nay! start not at that sparkling light;
'Tis but the moon that shines so bright
[On the window pane bedropped]2 with rain:
Then, little Darling! sleep again,
  And wake when it is day. 

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There is a change -- and I am poor;
Your love hath been, nor long ago,
A fountain at my fond heart's door,
Whose only business was to flow;
And flow it did; not taking heed
Of its own bounty, or my need.

What happy moments did I count!
Blest was I then all bliss above!
Now, for that consecrated fount
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love,
What have I? Shall I dare to tell?
A comfortless and hidden well.

A well of love -- it may be deep -- 
I trust it is, -- and never dry:
What matter? If the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
 -- Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.

Could I but ride indefinite
As doth the Meadow Bee
And visit only where I liked
And No one visit me

And flirt all Day with Buttercups
And marry whom I may
And dwell a little everywhere
Or better, run away

With no Police to follow
Or chase Him if He do
Till He should jump Peninsulas
To get away from me --

I said "But just to be a Bee"
Upon a Raft of Air
And row in Nowhere all Day long
And anchor "off the Bar"

What Liberty! So Captives deem
Who tight in Dungeons are.