The wire of gold assay'd;
My master grumbles all the while,--

Her shop the mischief made.

To ply her wheel she straight begins,

When not engaged in trade;
I know full well for what she spins,--

'Tis hope guides that dear maid.

Her leg, while her small foot treads on,

Is in my mind portray'd;
Her garter I recall anon,--

I gave it that dear maid.

Then to her lips the finest thread

Is by her hand convey'd.
Were I there only in its stead,

How I would kiss the maid!

1808.
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ANSWERS IN A GAME OF QUESTIONS.