The Millers Daughter

IT is the miller's daughter, 
And she is grown so dear, so dear, 
That I would be the jewel 
That trembles in her ear: 
For hid in ringlets day and night, 5 
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: 10 
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, 15 
With her laughter or her sighs: 
And I would lie so light, so light, 
I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.
 

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