To A Young Lady
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid –
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world’s gay busy throng:
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does.
Blessing and blest where’er she goes;
Pure-bosom’d as that watery glass
And Heaven reflected in her face.
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