Oh fairest of the rural maids! <br />Thy birth was in the forest shades; <br />Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, <br />Were all that met thy infant eye. <br /> <br />Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, <br />Were ever in the sylvan wild; <br />And all the beauty of the place <br />Is in thy heart and on thy face. <br /> <br />The twilight of the trees and rocks <br />Is in the light shade of thy locks; <br />Thy step is as the wind, that weaves <br />Its playful way among the leaves. <br /> <br />Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene <br />And silent waters heaven is seen; <br />Their lashes are the herbs that look <br />On their young figures in the brook. <br /> <br />The forest depths, by foot unpressed, <br />Are not more sinless than thy breast; <br />The holy peace, that fills the air <br />Of those calm solitudes, is there.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oh-fairest-of-the-rural-maids/
