Ii

Let us surprise the Naiad ere she slips-- Nude at her toilette--in her fountain's glass; With damp locks dewy and evasive hips, Cool-dripping, but an instant seen, alas! When from indented moss and plushy grass-- Fear in her great eyes' rainbow-blue--she dips, Irised, the cloven water; as we pass Making a rippled circle that shall hide, From our exploring eyes, what watery path She gleaming took; what crystal haunt she hath In minnowy freshness, where her murmurous lips, Bubbling, make merry 'neath the rocky tide.