She bewitched me
With such a sweet and genial charm,
I knew not when I wounded was,
And when I found it, hugged the harm.
Down hill; ah yes - down hill, down hill I glide,
But such a hill!
One tapestry fall of meadow pride,
Of ladysmock and daffodil.
How soon, how soon adown a rocky stair,
And slips no longer smooth as they are sweet,
Shall I, with backward-streaming hair,
Out fly my bleeding feet?
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