Rhyme? and Reason?

Girt with a boyish garb for boyish task,Eager she wields her spade: yet loves as wellRest on a friendly knee, intent to askThe tale one loves to tell.

Rude scoffer of the seething outer strife,Unmeet to read her pure and simple spright.Deem, if thou wilt, such hours a waste of life,Empty of all delight!

Chat on, sweet Maid, and rescue from annoyHearts that by wiser talk are unbeguiledAh, happy he who owns that tenderest joy,The heart-love of a child!

Away, fond thoughts, and vex my soul no more!Work claims my wakeful nights, my busy daysAlbeit bright memories of that sunlit shoreYet haunt my dreaming gaze