THE COQUETTE.

Whatsoe’er she vowed to-day –
Ere a week laid fled away
She’d refuse me! –
And shall I her steps pursue –
Follow still – and fondly woo? –
No; excuse me!

If she loves me – it were kind
Just to teach her her own mind –
Let her lose me!
For no more I’ll seek her side –
Court her favour – feed her pride: -
No; excuse me!

If, in idle, vain display,
She can cast my love away,
And thus use me:
For a fickle heart, at best,
Shall I grieve, and lose my rest?
No; excuse me!

Let her frown – frowns never kill;
Let her shun me, if she will;
Hate – abuse me:
Shall I bend ‘neath her annoy?
Bend? And make her heart my toy
No! – excuse me!