Sonnet.
Keep thou thy native white Simplicity ;1
Who would that seldom setting smile displace
?2
Who would not love the blushes of that face,3
Which speak so well thy feelings pure and free ?4
Thus ever look—and, as thou look’st, so be ;5
Preserve thy nature’s sweet unconscious grace,6
Still bloom, as no, within this true embrace,7
Dearer than all the pride of art to me.—8
—Within its gay parterre, yon splendid Rose9
May dazzle the sophisticated eye ;10
But where the modest Honey-suckle blows,11
The early Bee is ever seen to fly—12
He finds its simple leaves a sweet enclose,13
Which art oft spoils—but never can supply.14