CAME, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,
   In white, to find her lover;
The grass grew proud beneath her feet,
   The green elm-leaves above her:--
   Meet we no angels, Pansie?

She said, 'We meet no angels now';
   And soft lights stream'd upon her;
And with white hand she touch'd a bough;
   She did it that great honour:--
   What! meet no angels, Pansie?

O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes,
   Down-dropp'd brown eyes, so tender!
Then what said I? Gallant replies
   Seem flattery, and offend her:--
   But--meet no angels, Pansie?