The poem
BETWEEN wheatfield and corn, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between pasture and tree, Where's my sweetheart Tell it me!
Sweetheart caught I
Not at home; She's then, thought I.
Gone to roam. Fair and loving
Blooms sweet May; Sweetheart's roving,
Free and gay.
By the rock near the wave, Where her first kiss she gave, On the greensward, to me,-- Something I see! Is it she?
1812.