Skip to main content
The shame-faced maiden fain would shy
The modest youth — but ah! she knows
He saw her — and she hurries by,
Deep-blushing like a scarlet rose.

O, SILLY youth — are you afraid,
And could you not your thoughts disguise?
For when you pass'd the blushing maid,
You pull'd your klobuk o'er your eyes.
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.