The Morning Walk

The linnet sat upon its nest,      By gales of morning softly prest,      His green wing and his greener breast      Were damp with dews of morning:      The dog-rose near the oaktree grew,      Blush'd swelling 'neath a veil of dew,      A pink's nest to its prickles grew,      Right early in the morning.      The sunshine glittered gold, the while      A country maiden clomb the stile;      Her straw hat couldn't hide the smile      That blushed like early morning.      The lark, with feathers all wet through,      Looked up above the glassy dew,      And to the neighbouring corn-field flew,      Fanning the gales of morning.      In every bush was heard a song,      On each grass blade, the whole way long,      A silver shining drop there hung,      The milky dew of morning.      Where stepping-stones stride o'er the brook      The rosy maid I overtook.      How ruddy was her healthy look,      So early in the morning!      I took her by the well-turned arm,      And led her over field and farm,      And kissed her tender cheek so warm,      A rose in early morning.      The spiders' lacework shone like glass,      Tied up to flowers and cat-tail grass;      The dew-drops bounced before the lass,      Sprinkling the early morning.      Her dark curls fanned among the gales,      The skylark whistled o'er the vales,      I told her love's delightful tales      Among the dews of morning.      She crop't a flower, shook oft' the dew,      And on her breast the wild rose grew;      She blushed as fair, as lovely, too--      The living rose of morning.