It Is The Miller'S Daughter, And She Is Grown So Dear, So Dear, That I Would Be The Jewel That Trembles In Her Ear: For Hid In Ringlets Day And Night, I'd Touch Her Neck So Warm And White. And I Would Be The Girdle About Her Dainty Dainty Waist, And Her Heart Would Beat Against Me, In Sorrow And In Rest: And I Should Know If It Beat Right, I'd Clasp It Round So Close And Tight. And I Would Be The Necklace, And All Day Long To Fall And Rise Upon Her Balmy Bosom, With Her Laughter Or Her Sighs: And I Would Lie So Light, So Light, I Scarce Should Be Unclasp'D At Night.