What were a pastoral poet without thee?
Oh, I know thee, Milkmaid!
I hail thy jaunty juvenescence.
I know thy eighteen summers and thy eternal springs.
Ay, I know thy trials!
I know how thou art outspread over pastoral poetry.
Rampant, ubiquitous, inevitable, thy riotings in pastoral poetry.
And in masterpieces of pastoral art!
How oft have I seen thee sitting;
On a tri-legged stool sitting;