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20 Does she droop, the little thing ? Paler is she, too. Robin, man, you are but dull, Know not how to woo ; Tis of old the lover's part Tenderly to sue. Softly dropped her little hand Down among the leaves ; Such a weary fall it had, As of one that grieves ! Then my heart leapt up as one That, at last, believes. Does she leave me ? be it so, I will not forsake. Does she spurn me ? better so, Than two hearts should break. Here unto her feet I go, My petition take.