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Gentle as falcon；
Or hawk of the tower：
With solace and gladness；
Much mirth and no madness；
All good and no badness；
So joyously；
So maidenly；
So womanly
Her demeaning
In every thing；
Far； far passing
That I can indite；
Or suffice to write
Of merry Margaret
As midsummer flower；
Gentle as falcon；
Or hawk of the tower；
As patient and still
And as full of good will
As fair Isaphill；
Coliander；
Sweet pomander；
Good Cassander；
Steadfast of thought；
Well made； well wrought；
Far may be sought；
Eye that ye can find
So courteous； so kind；
As merry Margaret；
This midsummer flower；
Gentle as falcon；
Or hawk of the tower。
John Skelton ＇1460？…1529＇
ON HER COMING TO LONDON
What's she； so late from Penshurst come；
More gorgeous than the mid…day sun；
That all the world amazes？
Sure 'tis some angel from above；
Or 'tis the Cyprian Queen of Love
Attended by the Graces。
Or is't not Juno； Heaven's great dame；
Or Pallas armed； as on she came
To assist the Greeks in fight；
Or Cynthia； that huntress bold；
Or from old Tithon's bed so cold；
Aurora chasing night？
No； none of those； yet one that shall
Compare； perhaps exceed them all；
For beauty； wit； and birth；
As good as great； as chaste as fair；
A brighter nymph none breathes the air；
Or treads upon the earth。
'Tis Dorothee； a maid high…born；
And lovely as the blushing morn；
Of noble Sidney's race；
Oh！ could you see into her mind；
The beauties there locked…up outshine
The beauties of her face。
Fair Dorothea； sent from heaven
To add more wonders to the seven；
And glad each eye and ear；
Crown of her sex； the Muse's port；
The glory of our English court；
The brightness of our sphere。
To welcome her the Spring breathes forth
Elysian sweets； March strews the earth
With violets and posies；
The sun renews his darting fires；
April puts on her best attires；
And May her crown of roses。
Go； happy maid； increase the store
Of graces born with you； and more
Add to their number still；
So neither all…consuming age；
Nor envy's blast； nor fortune's rage
Shall ever work you ill。
Edmund Waller ＇1606…1687＇
〃O； SAW YE BONNY LESLEY〃
O saw ye bonny Lesley
As she gaed owre the Border？
She's gane； like Alexander；
To spread her conquests farther。
To see her is to love her；
And love but her for ever；
For nature made her what she is；
And ne'er made sic anither！
Thou art a queen； fair Lesley；
Thy subjects we； before thee；
Thou art divine； fair Lesley；
The hearts o' men adore thee。
The deil he couldna scaith thee；
Or aught that wad belang thee；
He'd look into thy bonny face；
And say； 〃I canna wrang thee！〃
The powers aboon will tent thee；
Misfortune sha' na steer thee；
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee。
Return again； fair Lesley；
Return to Caledonie！
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonny。
Robert Burns ＇1759…1796＇
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…bosomed as that watery glass；
And Heaven reflected in her face！
William Cowper ＇1731…1800＇
RUTH
She stood breast high among the corn；
Clasped by the golden light of morn；
Like the sweetheart of the sun；
Who many a glowing kiss had won。
On her cheek an autumn flush；
Deeply ripened； … such a blush
In the midst of brown was born；
Like red poppies grown with corn。
Round her eyes her tresses fell；
Which were blackest none could tell。
But long lashes veiled a light；
That had else been all too bright。
And her hat； with shady brim；
Made her tressy forehead dim；
Thus she stood amid the stooks；
Praising God with sweetest looks：
Sure； I said； Heaven did not mean；
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean；
Lay thy sheaf adown and come；
Share my harvest and my home。
Thomas Hood ＇1799…1845＇
THE SOLITARY REAPER
Behold her； single in the field；
Yon solitary Highland Lass！
Reaping and singing by herself；
Stop here； or gently pass！
Alone she cuts and binds the grain；
And sings a melancholy strain；
O listen！ for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound。
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of Travellers in some shady haunt；
Among Arabian sands：
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring…time from the Cuckoo…bird；
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides。
Will no one tell me what she sings？
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old； unhappy； far…off things；
And battles long ago：
Or is it some more humble lay；
Familiar matter of to…day？
Some natural sorrow； loss； or pain；
That has been； and may be again！
Whate'er the theme； the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending；
I saw her singing at her work；
And o'er the sickle bending； …
I listened； motionless and still；
And； as I mounted up the hill；
The music in my heart I bore；
Long after it was heard no more。
William Wordsworth ＇1770…1850＇
THE THREE COTTAGE GIRLS
I
How blest the Maid whose heart … yet free
From Love's uneasy sovereignty …
Beats with a fancy running high；
Her simple cares to magnify；
Whom Labor； never urged to toil；
Hath cherished on a healthful soil；
Who knows not pomp； who heeds not pelf；
Whose heaviest sin it is to look
Askance upon her pretty Self
Reflected in some crystal brook；
Whom grief hath spared … who sheds no tear
But in sweet pity； and can hear
Another's praise from envy clear。
II
Such （but O lavish Nature！ why
That dark unfathomable eye；
Where lurks a Spirit that replies
To stillest mood of softest skies；
Yet hints at peace to be o'erthrown；
Another's first； and then her own？）
Such haply； yon Italian Maid；
Our Lady's laggard Votaress；
Halting beneath the chestnut shade
To accomplish there her loveliness：
Nice aid maternal fingers lend；
A Sister serves with slacker hand；
Then； glittering like a star； she joins the festal band。
III
How blest （if truth may entertain
Coy fancy with a bolder strain）
The Helvetian Girl … who daily braves；
In her light skiff； the tossing waves；
And quits the bosom of the deep
Only to climb the rugged steep！
… Say whence that modulated shout！
From Wood…nymph of Diana's throng？
Or does the greeting to a rout
Of giddy Bacchanals belong？
Jubilant outcry！ rock and glade
Resounded … but the voice obeyed
The breath of an Helvetian Maid。
IV
Her beauty dazzles the thick wood；
Her courage animates the flood；
He