I saw her plucking cowslips,
And marked her where she stood;
She never knew I watched her
While hiding in the wood.
Her skirt was brightest crimson,
And black her steeple hat,
Her broomstick lay beside her-
I’m positive of that.
Her chin was sharp and pointed,
Her eyes were- I don’t know-
For, when she turned towards me-
I thought it best- to go!
