Some tiny twigs began to grow,
Her feet took root—for, you must know,
Her father, by divine decree,
Transformed his daughter to a tree!
“Ah!” sighed Apollo, “what is this?
My tree! You can’t escape me now!”
Upon her trunk he pressed a kiss—
Poor Daphne blushed in every bough;
“You have,” said he, “a lovely limb;”
(Say, honest, I’m ashamed of him!)