T h e B a s h f u l G i r l

by Fred S. Blossom.

Illustration by E. Fuhr.

HE threw around my soul a charm—

I threw around her waist my arm.

She was so bashful and seemed so shy—

Just made to kiss—ah! I wished to try.

We strolled along in the cooling shade;

I mustered courage and kissed the maid.

Her look! Her eyes! I’ll never forget

The touch of her lips! It lingers yet.

We kissed again! My heart stood still—

A joy came o’er me, a quiet thrill;

As the red blood pulsed, all seemed awhirl—

Wondrous change in my bashful girl!

Did her brown eyes flash, or a cry of wrath

Re-echo along that shady path?

Nay! But clinging close, as ivies climb,

She lifted her head to me each time.

“But clinging close, as ivies climb,

She lifted her head to me each time.”