The Coy One
One Spring-morning bright and fair,
Roam’d a shepherdess and sang;
Young and beauteous, free from care,
Through the fields her clear notes rang:
So, Ia, Ia! le ralla
Of his lambs some two or three
Thyrsis offer’d for a kiss;
First she eyed him roguishly,
Then for answer sang but this:
So, Ia, Ia! le ralla
Ribbons did the next one offer,
And the third, his heart so true
But, as with the lambs, the scoffer
Laugh’d at heart and ribbons too,–
Still ’twas Ia! le ralla
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