Down beside the willow water
Came the Reverend Wilson's daughter,
Looking for the one who loves to kiss her perfect face.
Across her shoulder, three times spun,
Her parasol to stop the sun;
White and new and edged with such a pretty ring of lace.
Back-buttoned dresses need a friend,
With eager fingers sweet to lend
A turn, a touch, and anything Miss Wilson might request.
The Reverend sent his man to check,
But all he found upon the deck:
A lace-edged parasol there tilted mistress-less at rest.
He dove into the willow water,
Fearful for the Reverend's daughter,
Who if she lost her breath, it came from quite another cause!
Presently, she came along,
Collected up her parasol,
Then, smiling, spun its lacy edge and walked back to the house.