IN youth, it is true, when my heart was overladen,
I called to relieve it a kind-hearted maiden.
I thought the whole summer was passing me while
I was told to walk on as she mounted the stile.
I trembled to touch the most innocent hand,
And thought it too much to receive a command:
At last the most hard of commands to obey
Was whispered in passing me
“Mind me, sir, pray!
If I waltz, if I gallop, you must not come near;
I once fear d your eyes, now all others I fear.”
But tranquiler days were advancing apace,
And we lookt, tho’ not boldly, in each other’s face;
And we sat on the mole-hill, and where there were ants
A vigilant hand well protected the plants;
Then I red to my listener; and often her face
Was turn’d rather nearer to look at the place,
While her elbow was covering our book; she “had heard
The rest quite distinctly, but not the last word.”
It was the last word, the last word that I red,
And she found better room for her elbow and head.