TO MISS ATKINSON,

ON THE EXTREME DIFFIDENCE WHICH SHE
DISPLAYS TO STRANGERS.

Just as a fawn, in forest shade,
    Trembling to meet th’ admiring eye,
I’ve seen thee try to hide, sweet maid!
    Thy charms behind thy modesty.

Thus too I’ve seen at midnight steal
    A fleecy cloud before the wind,
And veil, tho’ it could not conceal,
    The brilliant light that shone behind.