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?