Classic Poem

Sweet Isabella fair and young
The music of a womans tongue
Does to those ruby lips belong
Thy cheeks the roses bloom
Eyes bright as pearl
My own dear girl
Sweet Isabella come.

Primroses pearled i' morning dew
Wi' russet eye and brimstone blue
Are waiting i' the woods for you
And wild bees early hum
That gently swell
The anemonie
Dear Isabella come.

Where the short billed linnet builds her nest
And hides in moss her leaf green breast
On mossy banks we well can rest
Mid blue bells nodding bloom
Wood butterfly
Like flowers go by
There Isabella come.

Blue violets they begin to shoot
Beneath the mossy white thorn root
And spread where milkmaid sets her foot
Nor bruises scarce a flower
Come Isabella
My own sweet girl
Enjoy the young spring hour.

The lark has left the trembling corn
And whistles on the wings O morn
The blue red east and ashy dawn
And bees round thistles hum
I love thee well
My Isabella
Muse o' ballad come.