To Miss Atkinson, On The Extreme Diffidence Which She Displays To Strangers.
By John Carr (Sir)
Just as a fawn, in forest shade,
Trembling to meet th' admiring eye,
I've seen thee try to hide, sweet maid!
Thy charms behind thy modesty.
Thus too I've seen at midnight steal
A fleecy cloud before the wind,
And veil, tho' it could not conceal,
The brilliant light that shone behind.