Classic Poem

As I walked out one May morning
When may was white in bloom,
I walked into a tillage field
To breathe the sweet perfume.
I walked into a tillage field
And leaned upon a stile,
When there I saw a ploughing boy
Who did my heart beguile.

'Twas Cupid was this ploughing boy,
His furrows deep did plough,
He brake the clods that hard he found,
The seeds that he might sow.
I wish that pretty ploughing boy
My eyes had never seen.
Oh Cupid was that ploughing boy
With coulter sharp and keen.

If I should write a letter,
My inmost heart unfold,
Perhaps he would be scornful
And say that I was bold.
I would, I would that ploughing boy
My heart would yield again.
Oh Cupid was that ploughing boy
Who caused me all my pain.