Sweet maiden, could I on this page impress
The charms of Nature that surround us here,
How exquisite would be my vignette's dress!
And in thy book how worthy to appear!

The ripening harvests that adorn the vales;
The swelling mountains that majestic rise;
The forests whispering to the taintless gales;
The distant heights that melt into the skies;

The chestnut's bloom amid the vivid green;
The wild-flowers that beneath our footsteps blow;
The woodman's frequent hut at distance seen;
The streams all murmuring music as they flow;

The cloudless azure of the early morn;
The glories of the sun's departing ray;
Things that dare speak e'en to the heart-forlorn;
And for a while, at least, its griefs allay.

Were scenes like these with tasteful skill combin'd,
All fresh with Nature's Heav'n-inspired look,
What lovelier picture could an artist find
Wherewith to grace the pages of thy book?

And would I yet impart a finish'd grace,
I should not seek for sylph or woodland elf
Amid the beauties of the scene to place;
But I would add - a picture of thyself.

^* Miss Caroline Willett. Since dead.