The blackcaps pipe among the reeds,
  And there ’ll be rain to follow;
There is a murmur as of wind
  In every coign and hollow;
The wrens do chatter of their fears
While swinging on the barley-ears.

Come, hurry, while there yet is time,
  Pull up thy scarlet bonnet.
Now, sweetheart, as my love is thine,
  There is a...