• From “The Miller’s Daughter”
    IT is the miller’s daughter,
      And she is grown so dear, so dear,
    That I would be the jewel
      That trembles at her ear:
    For, hid in ringlets day and night,
    I ’d touch her neck so warm and white.

    And I would be the girdle
      About her dainty, dainty waist,
    And her heart would beat against me...