Hears not my Phillis how the birds
Their feather'd mates salute?
They tell their passion in their words.
Must I alone, must I alone be mute?
Phillis, without a frown or smile,
sat and knotted all the while.

The god of love in thy bright eyes
Does like a tyrant reign;
But in thy heart a child he lies
Without his dart or flame.
Phillis, without a frown or smile,
sat and knotted all the while.

So many months in silence past,
And yet in raging love,
Might well deserve one word at last,
My passion should approve?
Phillis, without a frown or smile,
sat and knotted all the while.

Must then your faithful swain expire,
And not one look obtain,
Which he to soothe his fond desire
Might pleasingly explain?
Phillis, without a frown or smile,
sat and knotted all the while.