Maidens robed in gauzy dresses,
Heads adorned with lustrous tresses,
Nestling pearls in soft caresses,
Trip along the river-side.
Where the violet sweet reposes,
And the wild flowers group in posies,
Fairer than the queenly roses,
Through the flowers they conquering glide.
Where the cooling water gushes,
Fitful shades of willow bushes
Flee and hide among the rushes,
Lest the maidens should deride.
Tripping sylph-like, as the Graces,
East wind blowing on their faces,
Which it holds in soft embraces,
And would ever there abide.
_The Poet-Beggar_