Let us surprise the Naiad ere she slips--
Nude at her toilette--in her fountain's glass;
With damp locks dewy and evasive hips,
Cool-dripping, but an instant seen, alas!
When from indented moss and plushy grass--
Fear in her great eyes' rainbow-blue--she dips,
Irised, the cloven water; as we pass
Making a rippled circle that shall hide,
From our exploring eyes, what watery path
She gleaming took; what crystal haunt she hath
In minnowy freshness, where her murmurous lips,
Bubbling, make merry 'neath the rocky tide.