I
Airy, Fairy Lilian,
flitting, fairy Lilian,
when I ask her if she love me,
claps her tiny hands above me,
laughing all she can;
she'll not tell me if she love me,
cruel little Lilian.

II
When my passion seeks
pleasance in love-sighs,
she, looking thro' and thro' me
thoroughly to undo me,
smiling, never speaks:
so innocent-arch, so cunning-simple,
from beneath her gathered wimple
glancing with black-bearded eyes,
till the lightning laughters dimple
the baby-roses in her cheeks;
then away she flies.

III
Prythee weep, May Lilian!
Gaiety without eclipse
wearieth me, May Lilian;
thro' my very heart it thrilleth
when from crimson-threaded lips
silver-treble laughter trilleth:
prythee weep, May Lilian!

IV
Praying all I can,
if prayers will not hush thee,
airy Lilian,
like a rose-leaf I will crush thee,
fairy Lilian,
cruel little Lilian.