ODE TO A YOUNG LADY, Somewhat too solicitous about her manner of expression

Survey, my Fair! that lucid stream Adown the smiling valley stray; Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream, To regulate its winding way?

So pleas'd I view thy shining hair In loose dishevell'd ringlets flow; Not all thy art, not all thy care, Can there one single grace bestow.

Survey again that verdant hill, With native plants enamell'd o'er; Say, can the painter's utmost skill Instruct one flow'r to please us more?

As vain it were, with artful dye, To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose; And, oh! may Laura, ere she try, With fresh vermilion paint the rose.

Hark how the woodlark's tuneful throat Can every study'd grace excel; Let Art constrain the rambling note, And will she, Laura, please so well?

Oh! ever keep thy native ease, By no pedantic law confin'd; For Laura's voice is form'd to please, So Laura's words be not unkind.