My darling, Clarinda,
Clarinda, my dear,
I look out the winda
And you are not here.

Are you picking some flowers
To put in a vase?
Are you looking for powers
To heat my love’s craze?

Do you think to inspire me
By walking so sweet
That a poem will come fire me
With sound of your feet?

Oh, where are you going,
And what do you do,
O Lover, my Lover,
My Lover so true?

Aha! Now I see you;
You’ve caught you a dove.
You coo and you coo you
To teach it your love.

Let go, my Clarinda,
Clarinda, my dear;
‘T will fly through the winda
And love will be here!