The Love-sick Maid

The love-sick maid, the love-sick maid,
Ah! who will comfort bring to the love-sick maid?
Can the doctor cure her woe
When she will not let him know
Why the tears incessant flow
From the love-sick maid?

The flaunting day, the flaunting day,
She cannot bear the glare of the flaunting day!
For she sits and pines alone,
And will comfort take from none;
Nay, the very colour's gone
From the love-sick maid.

The secret 's out, the secret 's out,
A doctor has been found, and the secret 's out!
For she finds at e'ening's hour,
In a rosy woodland bower,
Charms worth a prince's dower
To a love-sick maid.