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So bashful when I spied her!
So pretty–so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets
Lest anybody find–

So breathless till I passed her–
So helpless when I turned
And bore her struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the Dingle–
For whom betrayed the Dell–
Many, will doubtless ask me–
But I shall never tell!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. spring 1859