The Miller's Daughter.
Reading edition
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 In sorrow and in rest; And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise Upon her balmy bosom With her laughter or her sighs; And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasped at night.
