To a Caty-Did

In a branch of willow hid Sings the evening Caty-did: From the lofty locust bough Feeding on a drop of dew, In her suit of green array'd Hear her singing in the shade Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did!

While upon a leaf you tread, Or repose your little head, On your sheet of shadows laid, All the day you nothing said: Half the night your cheery tongue Revell'd out its little song, Nothing else but Caty-did.

From your lodgings on the leaf Did you utter joy or grief—? Did you only mean to say, I have had my summer's day, And am passing, soon, away To the grave of Caty-did:— Poor, unhappy Caty-did!

But you would have uttered more Had you known of nature's power— From the world when you retreat, And a leaf's your winding sheet, Long before your spirit fled, Who can tell but nature said, Live again, my Caty-did! Live, and chatter, Caty-did.

Tell me, what did Caty do? Did she mean to trouble you?— Why was Caty not forbid To trouble little Caty-did?— Wrong, indeed at you to fling, Hurting no one while you sing Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

Why continue to complain? Caty tells me, she again Will not give you plague or pain:— Caty says you may be hid Caty will not go to bed While you sing us Caty-did. Caty-did! Caty-did! Caty-did!

But, while singing, you forgot To tell us what did Caty not: Caty-did not think of cold, Flocks retiring to the fold, Winter, with his wrinkles old, Winter, that yourself foretold When you gave us Caty-did.

Stay securely in your nest; Caty now, will do her best, All she can, to make you blest; But, you want no human aid— Nature, when she form'd you, said, "Independent you are made, My dear little Caty-did: Soon yourself must disappear With the verdure of the year,"— And to go, we know not where, With your song of Caty-did.