POOR Colin Clout has given away
His foolish heart, and, strange to say,
The arrant, heartless, sweet coquette,
Whom many a lord might long to get,
With the poor oaf will jest and play!
Poor Colin Clout!
When she upon him smiles, he's gay;
Her frown distracts him. Well-a-day!
Her fancies need a lighter whet
Than Colin Clout!
But as I see him, day by day,
Grow gentler, nobler, higher, - stay!
And gentler too this poor coquette;
His patient love by kindness met,
I'm not so all inclined to say -
Poor Colin Clout!
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