He felt- he knew not how- his heart had flown.

And so, with anxious care,
He wandered here and there,
But could not find his lost heart anywhere.

Then he, with air distraught,
And brow of anxious thought,
Went out into the world beyond the wood.

Of each that passed him by,
He queried anxiously,
"I prithee, hast thou seen a heart astray?"

Some stared and hurried on,
While others said in scorn.
Your heart has gone in search of your lost wits"

The day is wearing fast,
Young Colin comes at last
To where a cottage stood embowered in trees.

He looks within, and there
He sees a maiden fair,
Who sings low songs the while she plies her wheel.

"I prithee, maiden bright,"--
She turns as quick as light,
And straight a warm flush crimsons all her face.