I flourish, I curtsey, I slip and I slide;—
This will do for a wife, this is fit for a bride.
I smile and I bow, in a dignified way,
And even shake hands with the lady in gray;
Then draw back astonish'd, afraid to offend,
It is all a mistake, and she is not a friend.
In a moment sweeps over the vision a change
Deliciously sweet and suddenly strange,
A blush in the cheek and a light in the eyes;—
A step in the passage, to meet it she flies,