A Spring o'erhung with many a flow'r, <br />The grey sand dancing in its bed, <br />Embank'd beneath a Hawthorn bower, <br />Sent forth its waters near my head: <br />A rosy Lass approach'd my view; <br />I caught her blue eye's modest beam: <br />The stranger nodded 'How d'ye do!' <br />And leap'd across the infant stream. <br /> <br />The water heedless pass'd away: <br />With me her glowing image stay'd. <br />I strove, from that auspicious day, <br />To meet and bless the lovely Maid. <br />I met her where beneath our feet <br />Through downy Moss the Wild-Thyme grew; <br />Nor Moss elastic, flow'rs though sweet, <br />Match'd Hannah's cheek of rosy hue. <br /> <br />I met her where the dark Woods wave, <br />And shaded verdure skirts the plain; <br />And when the pale Moon rising gave <br />New glories to her cloudy train. <br />From her sweet Cot upon the Moor <br />Our plighted vows to Heaven are flown; <br />Truth made me welcome at her door, <br />And rosy Hannah is my own.<br /><br />Robert Bloomfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rosy-hannah/
