Ripening in perfect innocence.
Here, scattered like a random seed,
Remote from men, Thou dost not need
Th' embarrass'd look of shy distress,
And maidenly shamefacedness;
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
The freedom of a Mountaineer;
A face with gladness overspread!
Soft smiles, by human kindness bred!
And seemliness complete, that sways