Amanda

James Thomson, The Four Seasons, Spring:

        And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song!
        Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself!
        Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet,
        Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul,
        Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd,
        Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart:
        Oh, come! and while the rosy-footed May
        Steals blushing on, together let us tread
        The morning dews, and gather in their prime
        Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair,
        And thy loved bosom that improves their sweets.