Phyllis and the Shepherd The shepherd lay close to a clustering grove, To hide from the heat of the day And Phyllis herself, in a green wood above, Among the sweet violets lay. How does the fond butterfly touch the sweet maid Her cheeks in mistake of a rose! I'd put it to detah if I were not afraid My boldness would break her repose. Hush, hush, busy bird! What a brawling you keep! I Think you're too low on the spray; Wake not the fair maid as she lies here asleep Like a lambkin that's tired of its play. Then Phyllis lookup up with a languishing smile- "Fond shepherd, I think you mistake; I lay myself down here to rest me awhile, But, trust me, I was not asleep," Then he, taking courage, advanced with a bow, And placed himself down by her side; He wooed here and won her - I can't tell you how - And yesterday made her his bride Collected from "Wassail" Harvey, Cricklade, Upper Thames (Died 1916) (c) Heirs of Alfred Williams, collected circa 1914-16 DMcG oct00
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