"'Woman's a witch who plies her charm
As doth the wine to work man harm,
And when she sees his heart is sore,
She smiles and sparkles all the more.'"
Peggy dropped her lashes, leaned a bit more over the wheel till the curls shaded the round of her cheek as she took up the word,—
"'It is not woman is the wine,
But love, but love, oh, sweetheart mine!
Drink deep, and drinking thou shalt prove
How heart'ning is the draught of love.'
Is't not a silly verse?"