Page:Companion of mirth.pdf/22

22 The Lass of Peaty's Mill.

The lass of Peaty's mill, So bonny, blithe, and gay, In spite of all my skill, Hath stole my heart away. When tedding of the hay, Bareheaded on the green, Love 'midst her locks did play, And wanton'd in her e'en.

Her arms, white, round, and smooth, Breasts rising in their dawn, To age it would give youth, To press 'em with his hand: Thıough all my spirits ran An extasy of bliss, When I such siveetness fand, Wrapt in a balmy kiss.

Without the help of art, Like flowers which grace the wild, She did her sweets impart, Whene'er she spoke or smil'd. Her look's they were so mild, Free from affected pride, She me to love beguilid, I wish'd her for my bride.