LOOKING INTO THE WELL.
101
LOOKING INTO THE WELL.
P in the maples the robins sung,The winds blew over the locusts high,
And along the path by their boughs o'erhung
We wandered gaily, Lulu and I,—
Wandered along in pleasant talk,
Pausing our nursery tales to tell,
Till we came to the end of the shaded walk
And sat, at last, by the moss-grown well.
She was a child, and so was I:
It mattered not that we told our love,—
Whispered it there, with no one nigh
Save birds that sang in the trees above.
I looked down into her shy blue eyes,
She at my face in the shaded well:
I saw the glow to her fair cheek rise,
Like red in the heart of an ocean shell.
