Velvety, gorgeous and tall,
Was ’prisoned fast in a virgin bower
Of golden thread for a thrall,
That the dodder spun one summer day,
When only we two were nigh;
No one else saw—so no one can say—
No one but Cherry and I.
No one knows where the blue-berries hide,
In the fern beds, thick and green,
Where the mossy floor is soft and wide,