J. C. Squire, ed. A Book of Women’s Verse. 1921.
By Anne Hunter (17421821)My Mother Bids me Bind my Hair
M
With bands of rosy hue,
Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare,
And lace my bodice blue.
While others dance and play?’
Alas! I scarce can go or creep
While Lubin is away.
When those we love were near;
I sit upon this mossy stone
And sigh when none can hear.
And sing my simple lay,
The village seems asleep or dead,
Now Lubin is away.