Ah lovley Emma mingling wi' the rest
Thy beauties blooming in low life unseen
Thy rosey cheeks thy sweetly swelling breast
But ill it suits thee in the stubs to glean
O poverty! how basely you demean
The imprison'd worth your rigid fates confine
Not fancied charms of an arcadian queen
So sweet as Emmas real beauties shine
Had fortune blest sweet girl this lot had neer been thine
The suns increasing heat now mounted high
Refreshment must recruit exausted power
The waggon stops the busy tools thrown bye
& 'neath a shock's enjoy'd the beavering hour
The bashful maid—sweet healths engaging flower
Lingering behind—oer rake still blushing bends
& when to take the horn fond swains implore
With feign'd excuses its dislike pretends
So pass the beavering hours—So harvest morning ends
(lines 47-64)
Poems descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery (1820)
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