Madrigal

A MAID is sitting by a brook,
The sweetest of sweet creatures:
I pass that way with my good book
Yet cannot read, nor cease to look
Upon her winsome features.

Amid the blushes on her cheek
Her small, white hand reposes:
I am a shepherd, for I seek
That wilful lamb, with fleece so sleek,
Feeding among the roses!
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