Classic Poem

On the seventeenth of April I' the good year forty nine
I met a pleasant maiden And I wished the maid was mine
She'd cowslips in her basket She'd sweet briar in her hand
Her love I would have ask'd But she would not understand.

I touched her gown in passing And she looked in strange surprise
The meadow pool spread glassing In the beautiful sunrise
Her shall was of the flags so green Her gown was brown and red
Her stockings white as snow was seen And lightsome was her tread

The linnet chirrupt in the thorn the lark sung in the sky
And bonny was the sunny morn And every road was dry
I took [her] by the waist so [small] All in a pleasant place
She no denial made at all But smiled upon my face

I cuddled her in the green grass And sat among the hay
Till sunshine o'er the hill did pass And day light went away
I kissed [her] o'er her bonny face So tender and so true
And left my blessing on the place Among the foggy dew