Poemsby Emily Dickinson
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!