THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.
43
With brooch and ring: for I shall seem,
The while you sing that song, to hear
The millwheel turning in the stream,
And the green chestnut whisper near.
The while you sing that song, to hear
The millwheel turning in the stream,
And the green chestnut whisper near.
SONG.
I wish I were her earring,
Ambushed in auburn ringlets sleek,
(So might my shadow tremble
Over her downy cheek,)
Hid in her hair, all day and night,
Touching her neck so warm and white.
I wish I were her earring,
Ambushed in auburn ringlets sleek,
(So might my shadow tremble
Over her downy cheek,)
Hid in her hair, all day and night,
Touching her neck so warm and white.
I wish I were the girdle
Buckled about her dainty waist,
That her heart might beat against me,
In sorrow and in rest.
I should know well if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
Buckled about her dainty waist,
That her heart might beat against me,
In sorrow and in rest.
I should know well if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
