The Walk to the Fair.

The day was up, the air serene, The Firmament without a cloud; The Bee humm'd o'er the level green Where knots of trembling Cowslips bow'd.

And RICHARD thus, with heart elate, As past things rush'd across his mind, Over his shoulder, talk'd to KATE, Who snug tuckt up, walk'd slow behind.

‘ When once a gigling Mawther you, ‘ And I a redfac'd chubby Boy, ‘ Sly tricks, you play'd me not a few; ‘ For mischief was your greatest joy.

‘ Once, passing by this very Tree, ‘ A Gotch of Milk I'd been to fill, ‘ You shoulder'd me; then laugh'd to see ‘ Me and my Gotch spin down the Hill’