'Tis sweet to find I am wrong in the thought,
Joy is but brighter for being confess'd;
Every moment has happiness brought,
Every stage of true love is the best.
They wish me at home to sit and to sew—
And I like to do what my aunt thinks right—
But the stitching never seem'd half so slow,
Nor zigzagg'd itself as it did one night.
And my work kept slipping out of my hand
As wonderful thoughts came into my head: