The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms-sweep vale-and hill-and tree…

A Lady red—amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid Lily sleeps! The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms— Sweep vale—and hill—and tree! Prithee, My pretty Housewives! Who may expected be? The Neighbors do not yet suspect! The Woods exchange a smile! Orchard, and Buttercup, and Bird— In suchContinue reading “The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms-sweep vale-and hill-and tree…”