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
I betrayed the
dell,
Many will doubtless ask me,
But I shall
never tell!
-
Emily Dickinson