Nell

The sun was low sinking behind the far trees
& crossing the path humming home were the bees
& darker & darker it grew by degrees
& crows they flockd quawking to rest
When unknown to her parents Nell slove on her hat
& oer the fields hurried - scarce knew she for what
But her sweetheart in taking advantage & that
Had kissd & had promisd the best

Poor maidens of husbands so much they conceit
The daisy scarce touchd rose unhurt from her feet
So eager she hastend her lover to meet
As to make him to wait was unjust
On the wood dim discovers she fixed her eyes
Such a queer spot to meet in suspicions might rise
But the fond word “a sweetheart” such goodness implies
Ah who would a lover distrust

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