'TIS Mary the milkmaid singing, A-singing, a-singing So rarely and sweet that the lark at her feet, All ready to start with a song in his heart, Presses closer the nest with his warm little breast, Forgetting his lay as he drinks in the sweet Pure music of Mary singing. 'Tis Mary the milkmaid singing, A-singing, a-singing So rarely and plain that a man in the lane Grows flushed in the face standing still in his place, And moves his red lips as the melody slips In a lovely and tender and womanly strain From Mary the milkmaid singing. 'Tis Richard the keeper whistling, A-whistling, a-whistling So rarely and clear for the milkmaid to hear! And she with a start puts her hand to the heart That leaps in the nest of that tremulous breast Beating time to the rollicking tune drawing near With Richard the keeper whistling. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA (1) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DEATH (1) by MAXWELL BODENHEIM A DOUBTFUL CHOICE by EDWARD DE VERE TO MY BOOKSELLER by BEN JONSON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET by JOHN KEATS REBECCA'S HYMN, FR. IVANHOE by WALTER SCOTT |