Fit theme for song, the sylvan maid
  Who, if she knew not fauns or satyrs,
Had conjured oft in mossy shade
  Visions of savage pale-face haters;
I trow she dined on pork and maize
  In cabin, single-roomed and sooted,
Quite innocent of frills and stays,
  Warm-hearted and bare-footed.

Her beauty surely brought her note,—...