And called for his poetic works:
Meanwhile the boy in secret lurks,
And while the book was in her hand
The urchin from his private stand,
Took aim, and shot with all his strength
A dart of such prodigious length,
It pierced the feeble volume through,
And deep transfixed her bosom too.
Some lines more moving than the rest,
Stuck to the point that pierced her breast,