The wondrous beauty which they have;
She straightness on the woods bestows;
To her the meadow sweetness ows;
Nothing could make the river be
So crystal pure but only she;
She yet more pure, sweet, straight, and fair,
That gardens, woods, meads, rivers, are.
Therefore what first she on them spent,
They gratefully again present:
The meadow, carpets where to tread;
The garden, flowers to crown her head;
And for a glass the limpid brook,
Where she may all her beauties look;
But, since she would not have them seen,
The wood about her draws a screen.
-Andrew Marvell
This is by far my favorite Victorian portrait... It's much more beautiful when you look at the reproduction on print, rather than on the computer screen... The light looks more golden.