On a warm spring day, my thoughts went astray.
I thought of a girl with bright yellow curls.
She seemed to be sad over love gone bad.
"Don't cry," I pleaded, "we all have needed."
But she looked away at the waning day.
I thought who could shame such a lovely dame?
She let out a sigh as the light left the sky.
Ne'er again she came, she made me ashamed.
Why can't you just see: who hurt her was me.