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’re she goes ;
Pure-bosom’d as that watery glass,
And heaven reflected in her face.
Cowper