THE FALSE LADY.
Thy girdle-knife was keen and bright,—
The ribbons wondrous fine,—
’Tween every knot of them you knit,
Of kisses I had nine.
Fond Margaret! false Margaret!
You kissed me, cheek and chin;
Yet, when I slept, that girdle-knife
You sheathed my heart’s blood in.
Old Ballad.