Meet We No Angels, Pansie
by Thomas Ashe (1836-1889)
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 streamed upon her;
And with white hand she touched a bough;
She did it that great honour:—
What! meet no angels, Pansie?
O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes
Down-dropped brown eyes so tender!
Then what said I?—Gallant replies
Seem flattery, and offend her:—
But,—meet no angels, Pansie?