She is a maid of artless grace

She is a maid of artless grace,

Gentle in form, and fair of face,

Tell me, thou ancient mariner,

That sailest on the sea,

If ship, or sail or evening star

Be half so fair as she!

Tell me, thou gallant cavalier,

Whose shining arms I see,

If steel, or sword, or battle-field

Be half so fair as she!

Tell me, thou swain, that gnard'st thy flock

Beneath the shadowy tree,

If flock, or vale, or mountain-ridge

Be half so fair as she!