And her little feet were as swift and white
As waves that dance in the noonday light.
Youths were panting, middle aged men
Had to rest and resume again.
She ran the posse almost to death,
All were gasping and out of breath.
At last they halted upon the ridge.
There! said Alice, beside the bridge
Under its shadow. Look, he's there
Weaving lilies in Imogene's hair;