A Lady red, amid the Hill 
Her annual secret keeps. 
A Lady white, within the field 
In chintz and 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 such a little while! 

And yet how still the Landscape stands! 
How nonchalant the Hedge! 
As if the Resurrection 
Were nothing very strange! 
		Emily '