Thomas Burbidge

(1816-1892 / England)

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Best Poem of Thomas Burbidge

She Bewitched Me

She bewitched me
With such a sweet and genial charm,
I knew not when I wounded was,
And when I found it, hugged the harm.

Down hill; ah yes - down hill, down hill I glide,
But such a hill!
One tapestry fall of meadow pride,
Of ladysmock and daffodil.

How soon, how soon adown a rocky stair,
And slips no longer smooth as they are sweet,
Shall I, with backward-streaming hair,
Out fly my bleeding feet?

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