bosom heaving,
sat beside the rill, a-grieving....
had she but waited, with time's succor,
could there have been a courtly plucker...
a knight, not errant...bold, instead...
to gratify this maiden's head....
lest ye think these musings shoddy....
hear well......she's not forgot the toddy.......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem