Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/86

34 And once, behind a rick of barley,

Thus looking out did Harry stand;

The moon was full and shining clearly,

And crisp with frost the stubble land.

—He hears a noise—he's all awake—

Again?—on tip-toe down the hill

He softly creeps—'Tis Goody Blake,

She's at the hedge of Harry Gill.

Right glad was he when he beheld her;

Stick after stick did Goody pull,

He stood behind a bush of elder,

Till she had filled her apron full.

When with her load she turned about,

The bye-road back again to take,

He started, forward with a shout,

And sprang upon poor Goody Blake.