IT is the miller's daughter, <br /> And she is grown so dear, so dear, <br />That I would be the jewel <br /> That trembles in her ear: <br />For hid in ringlets day and night, <br />I'd touch her neck so warm and white. <br /> <br />And I would be the girdle <br /> About her dainty dainty waist, <br />And her heart would beat against me, <br /> In sorrow and in rest: <br />And I should know if it beat right, <br />I'd clasp it round so close and tight. <br /> <br />And I would be the necklace, <br /> And all day long to fall and rise <br />Upon her balmy bosom, <br /> With her laughter or her sighs: <br />And I would lie so light, so light, <br />I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-miller-s-daughter-2/
