Girl at the window, tell me
What is in your heart?
Your shutter has gone quiet,
But your sighs are loud.
You should not be idle, girl, your hands are young and deft.
You should not be heartsore, girl, not for any man.
Girl at the casement, how you
Hold yourself apart!
No homely thing can touch you --
Girl, your wound is proud.
Turn your time to profit, girl, addressing warp and weft.
There's your proper business, girl; attend to what you can.
Or come to France with me and
Study there the art
Of Bonny Jeanne who left us
Billowed on a cloud.
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