John Keats,
Where be ye going, you Devon maid…
“ Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy, Will ye give me some cream if I ask it? I love your meads, and I love your flowers, And I love your junkets mainly, But 'hind the door, I love kissing more, O look not so disdainly! I love your hills, and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; But O, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating! ”
