OH fairest of the rural maids! Thy birth was in the forest shades; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Were all that met thy infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were ever in the sylvan wild; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy face. The twilight of the trees and rocks Is in the light shade of thy locks; Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Its playful way among the leaves. Thy eyes are springs, in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen; Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook. The forest depths, by foot unpressed, Are not more sinless than thy breast; The holy peace, that fills the air Of those calm solitudes, is there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AFTER WOMAN by FRANCIS THOMPSON MONODY ON THE ASTOR HOUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS ONCE WE PLAYED by MATHILDE BLIND IF THAT HIGH WORLD by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |