A maiden child of beauty’s mould;
’Twas near (more sacred was the scene)
The palace of our patriot Queen.
The little charmer to my view
Was sculpture brought to life anew;
Her eyes had a poetic glow—
Her pouting mouth was Cupid’s bow,
And through her frock I could descry
Her neck and shoulders’ symmetry.
’Twas obvious, from her walk and gait,