Poetry Archives

Fair village nymph, ah! may I meet
  Thy pleasing form where’er I stray!
With open air and converse sweet,
  Still cheer my undiscover’d way!

With eyes, that shew the placid mind,
  And with no feign’d emotions roll;
With mien, that sprightly or resign’d,
  Bespeaks the temper of the soul.

With smiles, where not the lips alone
  Receive a brighter, vermil hue,
The cheek does warmer roses own,
  And the eyes beam, a deeper blue!

Though Fashion’s minions scorn thy pow’r,
  And slight thee, ‘cause in russet drest,
Yet Joy frequents thy peaceful bow’r,
  And sorrow flies to thee for rest.

The echoing laugh, the rapturous tear,
  The smile of friendship, gay and free,
Delight but when they are sincere,
  And given, lovely nymph, by thee.

When my Rosina reads a tale,
  Though sweet the tuneful accents flow,
No studied pathos does prevail
  To bid the hearer’s bosom glow;

Her voice to sympathy resign’d,
  Each different feeling can impart.
And, tell me not, we e’er can find
  A modulator, like the heart!

And Mary’s locks of glossy brown,
  That fall in waves, with graceful swell,
In ever-varying ringlets thrown,
  The fairest curls of art excel.

Still rob’d in innocence and ease,
  Daughter of Truth, shall thou prevail,
When Affectation cannot please,
  And all the spells of Fashion fail.


NOV. 17, 1795.