Текст оригинала на английском языке
Bedecked in fashion trim, With every curl a-quiver; Or leaping, light of limb, O'er rivulet and river; Or skipping o'er the lea On daffodil and daisy; Or stretched beneath a tree, All languishing and lazy; Whatever be her mood - Be she demurely prude Or languishingly lazy - My lady drives me crazy! In vain her heart is wooed, Whatever be her mood! What profit should I gain Suppose she loved me dearly? Her coldness turns my brain To VERGE of madness merely. Her kiss - though, Heaven knows, To dream of it were treason - Would tend, as I suppose, To utter loss of reason! My state is not amiss; I would not have a kiss Which, in or out of season, Might tend to loss of reason: What profit in such bliss? A fig for such a kiss!
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