Classic Poem

When she came up, in a rude garment of green,
Through the hang of which her white legs glanced and vanished,
And her black hair about her back and shoulders,
And one hand holding the green against her young breasts,
She spied the youth, who waited trembling in her father's doorway.

She stopped, as a doe stops, hearing the hunters:
Startled, wide-eyed, with parting lips,
And one knee over the other …

Yet even in her fear she thought she saw a shadow upon him or behind him:
But she did not see it was his Mother.

Then he spoke, stammering, asking her pardon,
And telling of his thirst.

“Wait,” she said, confused, “until I am dressed,”
And slipped by him into the cabin,
And closed the door.