Rosina

Rosina ran down Prior-park,
Joyous and buoyant as a lark.
The little girl, light-heel'd, light-hearted,
Challenged me; and away we started.
Soon in a flutter she return'd,
And cheek, and brow, and bosom burn'd.
She fairly own'd my full success
In catching her, she could no less,
And said to her mama, who smiled
Yet lovelier on her lovely child,
" You can not think how fast he ran
For such a very old old man,
He would not kiss me when he might,
And, catching me, he had a right.
Such modesty I never knew,
He would no more kiss me than you."