 | Songs and Lyrics |  |
135
The Curtsey.
She dropt a curtsey as she went,
And look'd—no cloud e'er look'd so black;
I half suspect the angel meant
To put my heart upon the rack.
And look'd—no cloud e'er look'd so black;
I half suspect the angel meant
To put my heart upon the rack.
And yet not so. Did she not know,
One year ago, by her disdain,
Too well this deed was done to need
The least bit doing o'er again?
One year ago, by her disdain,
Too well this deed was done to need
The least bit doing o'er again?
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