ONE primrose time, a maiden brown, | |
| Wishing for what we will not say, | |
| By side of shepherd sat her down, | |
| And softly ask’d him, would he play? | |
| Mild shone the sun through red-streak morn, | 5 |
| And glist’ning dew-drops pearled the grass; | |
| The rustic, stretched beneath the thorn, | |
| Grinning, reply’d—I’ll please thee, Lass. | |
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| All on the green field’s turfy bed, | |
| Smiling, the fond one fell along; | 10 |
| The thick-leaf shade her face o’erspread. | |
| While, lisping, she began this song:— | |
| “’Tis love which gives life holidays, | |
| And Love, I’ll always take thy part; | |
| My shepherd’s pipe so sweetly plays, | 15 |
| It finds the way to win my heart. | |
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| “The ladies dress’d with silks so fine, | |
| In golden chairs to visits go; | |
| On costly dishes they can dine, | |
| And ev’ry night see ev’ry show; | 20 |
| Yet, if ’tis true what some folks speak, | |
| Those ladies lead but lonely lives; | |
| Husbands are wilful, husbands weak, | |
| And seldom pipe to please their wives.” | |
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| Blue broke the clouds, the day yet young, | 25 |
| The flowers fragrant fill’d the breeze; | |
| Wanton the lass, half whisp’ring, sung, | |
| Yes, shepherd,—once more if you please. | |
| Awaking from embrac’d delight, | |
| She heard her dame, and dar’d not stay; | 30 |
| They kiss, they part, but first—at night, | |
| She charg’d him, come again and play. | |
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| His team to geer, home hy’d the loon, | |
| The love-cheer’d lass blithe bore her pail, | |
| And thus she gave her ditty tune, | 35 |
| Tripping it deftly down the dale; | |
| “Tho’ organ pipes play music fine, | |
| And fountain-pipes folks run to see; | |
| Tho’ thirsty souls love pipes of wine, | |
| The pipe of love’s the pipe for me.” | 40 |
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