The Miller’s Daughter

Alfred Lord Tennyson

1809 to 1892

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  That trembles in her ear:
  With her laughter or her sighs:
And I would be the girdle
  In sorrow and in rest:
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
And I would lie so light, so light,
And her heart would beat against me,
And I would be the necklace,
  And she is grown so dear, so dear,
I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.
  About her dainty dainty waist,
It is the miller's daughter,
Upon her balmy bosom,
I'd touch her neck so warm and white.
And I should know if it beat right,
That I would be the jewel
  And all day long to fall and rise
For hid in ringlets day and night,