“I would employ.  In converse vain
“Let us not waste our moments few;
“But think what it were best to do.” 
“If you will please me,” Robert said,
“You must contrive to change your bed,
“And have it placed—­well, let me see—­
“Moved to the outer gallery,
“Where you will be alone and free. 
“We there can meet and chat at leisure
“While others sleep, nor need we fear,
“Of merry tales I have a treasure
“To tell, but cannot tell them here.” 
Kate smiled at this for she knew well
What sort of tales he had to tell;
But promised she would do her best
And soon accomplish his request. 
It was not easy, you’ll admit,
But love lends foolish maidens wit;
And this is how she managed it. 
The whole night long she kept awake,
Snored, sighed and kicked, as one possessed,
That parents both could get not rest,
So much she made the settle shake. 
This is not strange.  A longing girl,
With thoughts of sweetheart in her head,
In bed all night will sleepless twirl. 
A flea is in her ear, ’tis said. 
The morning broke.  Of fleas and heat
Kitty complained.  “Let me entreat,
“O mother, I may put my bed
“Out in the gallery,” she said,
“’Tis cooler there, and Philomel
“Who warbles in the neigh’bring dell
“Will solace me.”  Ready consent
The simple mother gave, and went
To seek her spouse.  “Our Kate, my dear,
“Will change her bed that she may hear
“The nightingale, and sleep more cool.” 
“Wife,” said the good man, “You’re a fool,
“And Kate too with her nightingale;
“Don’t tell me such a foolish tale. 
“She must remain.  No doubt to-night
“Will fresher be.  I sleep all right
“In spite of heat, and so can she. 
“Is she more delicate than me?”
Incensed was Kate by this denial
After so promising a trial,
Nor would be beat, but firmly swore
To give more trouble than before. 
That night again no wink she slept
But groaned and fretted, sighed and wept,
Upon her couch so tossed and turned,
The anxious mother quite concerned
Again her husband sought.  “Our Kate
“To me seems greatly changed of late. 
“You are unkind,” she said to him,
“To thwart her simple, girlish whim. 
“Why may she not her bed exchange,
“In naught will it the house derange? 
“Placed in the passage she’s as near
“To us as were she lying here. 
“You do not love your child, and will
“With your unkindness make her ill.” 
“Pray cease,” the husband cried, “to scold
“And take your whim.  I ne’er could hold
“My own against a screaming wife;
“You’ll drive me mad, upon my life. 
“Her belly-full our Kate may get
“Of nightingale or of linnet.” 
The thing was settled.  Kate obeyed,
And in a trice her bed was made,
And lover signalled.  Who shall say
How long to both appeared that day,
That tedious day!  But night arrived
And Richard too; he had contrived