By Aphelion Elridge ’23  @aphelionsews

XCVI

‘TIS sunrise, little maid, hast thou
No station in the day?
‘Twas not thy wont to hinder so, —
Retrieve thine industry.

‘Tis noon, my little maid, alas!
And art thou sleeping yet?
The lily waiting to be wed,
The bee, dost thou forget?

My little maid, ’tis night; alas,
That night should be to thee
Instead of morning! Hadst thou broached
Thy little plan to me,
Dissuade thee if I could not, sweet,
I might have aided thee.