So bashful when I spied her
 
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
 
 

SO bashful when I spied her,
So pretty, so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets,
Lest anybody find;

So breathless till I passed her,
So helpless when I turned
And bore her, struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the dingle,
For whom betrayed the dell,
Many will doubtless ask me,
But I shall never tell!

2014-14

 
   
Friends of the Wild Flower Garden, Inc.