From his ruby pavilion Phoebus arose

From his ruby pavilion Phoebus arose,
And looked down from his shining first,
And the earth at his glance, from her calm repose
Into beauty and gladness burst,
But the clouds of sorrow he could not chase,
Nor the gleaming tears upon Katie's face.

On a merry ride to the busy town
In my first she too surely had reckoned,
Disappointed and angry she flung herself down
On my whole : but alas, in my second ;
So I told her, my second you never can be
While such haughty tempers so often I see.