Email Poem

Your IP Address: 216.73.216.246

From Email:	Required Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:	Email Address Not Valid. Required
Subject	Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem	PAGE. WHERE goest thou? Where? Miller's daughter so fair! Thy name, pray?-- MILLER'S DAUGHTER. 'Tis Lizzy. PAGE. Where goest thou? Where? With the rake in thy hand? MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Father's meadows and land To visit, I'm busy. PAGE. Dost go there alone? MILLER'S DAUGHTER. By this rake, sir, 'tis shown That we're making the hay; And the pears ripen fast In the garden at last, So I'll pick them to-day. PAGE. Is't a silent thicket I yonder view? MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Oh, yes! there are two; There's one on each side. PAGE. I'll follow thee soon; When the sun burns at noon We'll go there, o'urselves from his rays to hide, And then in some glade all-verdant and deep-- MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Why, people would say-- PAGE. Within mine arms thou gently wilt sleep. MILLER'S DAUGHTER. Your pardon, I pray! Whoever is kiss'd by the miller-maid, Upon the spot must needs be betray'd. 'Twould give me distress To cover with white Your pretty dark dress. Equal with equal! then all is right! That's the motto in which I delight. I am in love with the miller-boy; He wears nothing that I could destroy. 1797.
	Type the characters you see in the picture Required