And wonder’d much to see the creatures dine;
When she resolved her father’s heart to move,
If hearts of farmers were alive to love.
She now entreated by herself to sit
In the small parlour, if papa thought fit,
And there to dine, to read, to work alone -
“No!” said the Farmer in an angry tone;
“These are your school-taught airs; your mother’s pride
Would send you there; but I am now your guide. -
Arise betimes, our early meal prepare,