Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive,
Half wishing they were dead to save the shame.
The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow;
They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats,
And flare up boldly, wings and all.
Who's sorry for a gnat ... or girl?
MRS. BROWNING: _Aurora Leigh,_ Bk. ii., Line 732.