 | I. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
| II. |
| III. |
 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
I BENDED UNTO ME
I bended unto me a bough of May,That I might see and smell:
It bore it in a sort of way,
It bore it very well.
But, when I let it backward sway,
Then it were hard to tell
With what a toss, with what a swing,
The dainty thing
Resumed its proper level,
And sent me to the devil.
I know it did—you doubt it?
I turned, and saw them whispering about it.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |