The loving nothings we were wont to say)
From day to day,
And sometimes after dark;
She was my Angel-Sweetheart, just sixteen.
But I was shy! And while I longed to taste
The nectar of her lips, I was afraid
To draw her to my breast and kiss the Maid:
But I essayed!
And this is what I drew—
"There's Papa with the bulldog, so make haste!"