This text comes from The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasped by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
On her check an autumn flush,
Deeply ripened;—such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.
Round her eyes her tresses fell;
Which were blackest none could tell,
But long lashes veiled a light
That had else been all too bright.
And her hat, with shady brim,
Made her tressy forehead dim;—
Thus she stood amid the stooks,
Praising God with sweetest looks:—
Sure, I said, Heaven did not mean
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean
Lay thy sheaf adown and come,
Share my harvest and my home.