ALONG the river's side did Cynthia stray, More like a Goddess, than a Nymph, at play; The flood stopt to behold her; pleas'd to see't, She to its kisses yields her naked feet. Brisk air saluted her, ne'er stay'd to woo; The very boughs reach'd to be toying too; The little birds came thronging to admire, And for her entertainment made a choir: The meadows smile, and joy surrounds the place, As if all things were infl'enc'd by her face; The grass and leaves take freshness from her eyes, And as of lesser force, Sol's beams despise. No herb press'd by her foot but blossoms straight, Flowers, for her touch to ripen them, do wait; They, from her hand, new fragrancy do yield, Her presence fills with perfumes all the field. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WHITE PEACOCK by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH EVENING IN A SUGAR ORCHARD by ROBERT FROST MATERNITY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WINTER SONG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |