And Betty’s drooping at the heart,
  That happy time all past and gone,
  “How can it be he is so late? 
  The Doctor, he has made him wait; 165
  Susan! they’ll both be here anon.”

  And Susan’s growing worse and worse,
  And Betty’s in a sad quandary;
  And then there’s nobody to say
  If she must go, or she must stay! 170
 —­She’s in a sad quandary.

  The clock is on the stroke of one;
  But neither Doctor nor his Guide
  Appears [15] along the moonlight road;
  There’s neither horse nor man abroad, 175
  And Betty’s still at Susan’s side.

  And Susan now begins to fear [16]
  Of sad mischances not a few,
  That Johnny may perhaps be drowned;
  Or lost, perhaps, and never found; 180
  Which they must both for ever rue.

  She prefaced half a hint of this
  With, “God forbid it should be true!”
  At the first word that Susan said
  Cried Betty, rising from the bed, 185
  “Susan, I’d gladly stay with you.

  “I must be gone, I must away: 
  Consider, Johnny’s but half-wise;
  Susan, we must take care of him,
  If he is hurt in life or limb”—­ 190
  “Oh God forbid!” poor Susan cries.

  “What can I do?” says Betty, going,
  “What can I do to ease your pain? 
  Good Susan tell me, and I’ll stay;
  I fear you’re in a dreadful way, 195
  But I shall soon be back again.”

  “Nay, Betty, [17] go! good Betty, go! 
  There’s nothing that can ease my pain.” 
  Then off she hies; but with a prayer
  That God poor Susan’s life would spare, 200
  Till she comes back again.

  So, through the moonlight lane she goes,
  And far into the moonlight dale;
  And how she ran, and how she walked,
  And all that to herself she talked, 205
  Would surely be a tedious tale.

  In high and low, above, below,
  In great and small, in round and square,
  In tree and tower was Johnny seen,
  In bush and brake, in black and green; 210
  ’Twas Johnny, Johnny, every where.

  And while she crossed the bridge, there came
  A thought with which her heart is sore—­[18]
  Johnny perhaps his horse forsook,
  To hunt the moon within the brook, [19] 215
  And never will be heard of more.

  Now is she high [20] upon the down,
  Alone amid a prospect wide;
  There’s neither Johnny nor his Horse
  Among the fern or in the gorse; 220
  There’s neither Doctor nor his Guide.

  “Oh saints! what is become of him? 
  Perhaps he’s climbed into an oak,
  Where he will stay till he is dead;
  Or, sadly he has been misled, 225
  And joined the wandering gipsy-folk.