William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878)

O FAIREST of the rural maids!

Thy birth was in the forest shades;

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.

Thine 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 unpress’d

Are not more sinless than thy breast;

The holy peace that fills the air

Of those calm solitudes is there.