To A Tramping Girl

Like Artemis, the silver queen of chase,
Who erst with clean light limbs all flashing bare,
Proud shapely neck and rebel wind-blown hair,
Ran with the wind in flushed and joyful race—
Like her, with her young lithe immortal grace
You leap from rock to hilly rock, with care
All cast behind, and shining eyes that dare
All things this day, and strong unfettered pace.

I think I see you in some Grecian vale
Bend 'twixt the green of grass and blue of sky
To tie a loosened sandal; see you spring
To sudden-tingling life—a backward fling
Of tunic white in burning sun; and fly
To cool dark depths of woods across the dale.

J.C.B.