Classic Poem

I met my love in summer days
On Sundays in the morn
And prov'd it in a thousand ways
While walking through the corn
I pull'd her as she stept the stile
Back just to kiss her cheek
She just rebuk'd me by a smile
I felt it all the week.

2

With stick before I beat the dew
Where heavy laid the grain
For black and glossy was her shoe
Her new gown without stain
I put the envious brier away
That dangled for her sleeve
And cut the bramble from the spray
That they no wounds might leave.

3

I met my love in Summer weather
And wandered down the lane
Like Turtle Doves we pair'd together
And shall do so again
The moon may peep when skies are bare
O' clouds, and stars may shine
They'll see nought else but love is there
I'm hers, and she is mine —