A MAIDEN to the fountain went;
I saw her overhang the place—
And—she was young and innocent—
I heard her say with simple grace,
“Indeed she has a pretty face;
And if she had a spring-flower wreath,
How well ’twould sit upon her brow;
And she might hear the shepherd breathe,
Yes! thou shalt be my maiden now!
The shepherd—’midst his fleecy drove,
Goes like a moon the stars above.”