My nymph leaned down to tie her shoe,
Then gathered up a wandering tress;
The little Loves about her flew
And triumphed in her gracefulness.
It was a simple thing to do,
Just leaning down to tie her shoe,
Then gathering up a wandering tress.
Of wives I’ve known a score or two,
An hundred maidens, hardly less,
Who in their way could tie a shoe,
And gather up a wandering tress.
But only one I ever knew
Could bind me first upon her shoe
Then hang me on a wandering tress.