She pensively began to stir,
With a tiny golden spoon,
Within an antique dish upon her lap,
Some snow-white milky curds;
Soft were they, full of cream and rich,
And floated in translucent whey;
And as she stirred, she smiled,
Then gently tasted them,
And smiling, ate, nor sighed no more.
Lo! as she ate—nor harbored thought of ill—