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Poem by Mary Robinson

To Simplicity

[Inscribed to Lady Duncannon]

SWEET blushing Nymph, who loves to dwell
In the dark forests silent gloom;
Who smiles within the Hermits cell,
And sighs upon the rustics tomb;
Who, pitying, sees the busy throng,
The slaves of fashions giddy sway;
Who in a wild and artless song,
Warbles the feathry hours away. 

Oft have I flown thy steps to trace,
In the low valleys still retreat,
Oft have I viewd thy blooming face,
In the small cottage, proudly neat!
Ive seen thee, veild in vestal lawn,
In the cold cloysters hallowd shade;
Ive seen thee, at the peep of dawn,
In simple, russet garb arrayd. 

Ive seen thee, crowned with APRIL flowrs,
Light bounding oer the rural mead; 
Ive heard thee in sequesterd bowrs
Sing to the SHEPHERDS pastral reed;
When pleasure led the nymphs along
In moonlight gambols oer the green,
Ive markd THEE, fairest of the throng,
With modest eye and timid mien. 

No more my eager gaze shall trace
Thy varying footsteps, blithe and free;
For what art thou, but native grace,
Soft Beautys child, SIMPLICITY?
Tis thine in every path to dwell,
Where TRUTH and INNOCENCE are seen,
In cottage low, or Hermits cell,
Or splendid dome, or rural green. 

The spotless MIND, the brow serene,
Tis THINE, enchanting Maid, to boast!
The sweet, benignant, humble mien,
And all that VIRTUE values most!
Thy blushes paint DUNCANNONSs cheek,
Thy light hand weaves her golden hair,
Around her form, THY charms Ill seek,

Mary Robinson

Mary Robinson's other poems:
  1. Sonnet to Evening
  2. Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter
  3. Sonnet 40. On the Low Margin
  4. Sonnet 42. Oh! Canst Thou Bear
  5. Sonnet 24. O Thou! Meek Orb

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