Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice, stole in and out,
As if they feared the light.
And oh! She dances such a way
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.
More verses by Sir John Suckling
- A Doubt Of Martyrdom
- A Supplement Of An Imperfect Copy Of Verses Of Mr. William
- Sonnet
- I Prithee Spare Me Gentle Boy
- If You Refuse Me Once, And Think Again