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?

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