After he'd lookt at me.

I knew not why my heart was glad,

Or why it leapt, but so 'tis,

The sharpest, sweetest pang I've had

Was when he took notice.

And 'tis not favour makes a lad

To a girl's mind,

But 'tis himself makes good of bad,

Or her stone-blind.

And men may cheer at tales of wars,

But every girl knows

What makes her eyes to shine like stars

And her face a rose.

 iii 

iii

No word he said, but turned his head

After he'd lookt at me;

I coloured up a burning red,

Setting the cloth for tea.

The board was spread with cakes and bread

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