To a Lady playing and singing in the Morning

JOYFUL lady, sing!And I will lurk here listening,Though nought be done, and nought begun,And work-hours swift are scurrying.

Sing, O lady, still!Aye, I will wait each note you trill,Though duties due that press to doThis whole day long I unfulfil.

"—It is an evening tune;One not designed to waste the noon,"You say. I know: time bids me go—For daytide passes too, too soon!

But let indulgence be,This once, to my rash ecstasy:When sounds nowhere that carolled airMy idled morn may comfort me!