  Down a little lane So beautifully shaded There I met the queen Of all little maidens. Her hair was light And eyes sky-blue, She was out of the garden Of beauties that’s true. She’d hold her little dress And dance to the breeze; She would do it with grace And musical ease. On the tips of her toes She’d go around like a top, With such dancing, entrancing, I thought she’d ne’er stop. Then she’d bow And give a sweet little smile, Pulling her finger Like a real little child. But who only knows Whom this maiden can be, She’s my secret inspirer, And the world to me. Sometimes when I write She stands by my side, If my poem’s of the ocean She rides on the tide. Now little one My thoughts are dim, But with your guidance I worked with vim. And now I must go, But my thoughts are of you. We’ll meet here next Sunday In the lane at two. |
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