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William Cullen Bryant - Oh Fairest of the Rural Maids
Work rating: Medium

	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.

	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 unpressed,
	Are not more sinless than thy breast;
	The holy peace, that fills the air
	Of those calm solitudes, is there.
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