  Oh, little Miss Hilly of Northampton-town Goes walking the valleys and meadows adown; She looks in the brooks for the stars and the moon And she sings an old chanty a bit out of tune. Oh, little Miss Hilly is dear unto me,— Is dear unto me! Her arms are so eager but tiny are they, And her fingers are agile as waters at play. Yet little Miss Hilly must climb a steep slope, Must go without laughter and live without hope: Must chatter and patter like leaves and like rain, Must shiver and quiver and ache with the pain Of climbing for stars and wanting the moon As she puts an old chanty once more into tune, Ere the stars will come down or the moon will reply Except by a wink through a chink in the sky Oh, little Miss Hilly so dear unto me, So dear unto me! |
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