I KNOW not of what we ponder-d
Or made pretty pretence to talk,
As, her hand within mine, we wander-d
Tow-rd the pool by the lime-tree walk,
While the dew fell in showers from the passion flowers
And the blush-rose bent on her stalk.

I cannot recall her figure:
Was it regal as Juno-s own?
Or only a trifle bigger
Than the elves who surround the throne
Of the Faëry Queen, and are seen, I ween,
By mortals in dreams alone?

What her eyes were like I know not:
Perhaps they were blurr-d with tears;
And perhaps in you skies there glow not
(On the contrary) clearer spheres.
No! as to her eyes I am just as wise
As you or the cat, my dears.

Her teeth, I presume, were -pearly:�
But which was she, brunette or blonde?
Her hair, was it quaintly curly,
Or as straight as a beadle-s wand?
That I fail-d to remark: it was rather dark
And shadowy round the pond.

Then the hand that repos-d so snugly
In mine,-was it plump or spare?
Was the countenance fair or ugly?
Nay, children, you have me there!
My eyes were p-haps blurr-d; and besides I -d heard
That it -s horribly rude to stare.

And I,-was I brusque and surly?
Or oppressively bland and fond?
Was I partial to rising early?
Or why did we twain abscond,
When nobody knew, from the public view
To prowl by a misty pond?

What pass-d, what was felt or spoken,-
Whether anything pass-d at all,-
And whether the heart was broken
That beat under that shelt-ring shawl,-
(If shawl she had on, which I doubt),-has gone,
Yes, gone from me past recall.

Was I haply the lady-s suitor?
Or her uncle? I can-t make out;
Ask your governess, dears, or tutor.
For myself, I -m in hopeless doubt
As to why we were there, who on earth we were,
And what this is all about.