SHE snapt her fingers, on her heel,
Her sweet boot-heel, she turned and left me;
What did I feel?—What could I feel,
At what of paradise had reft me?
I swooning lay; my soul away
To hell had fled, by madness driven—
Where—where!—she met again the pet,
Who'd come to coax her back to—heaven!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem