Ode to a Young Lady, Somewhat too solicitous about her manner of expression

SURVEY, my Fair! that lucid stream
Adown the smiling valley stray;
Would Art attempt, or Fancy dream,
To regulate its winding way?

So pleas'd I view thy shining hair
In loose dishevell'd ringlets flow;
Not all thy art, not all thy care,
Can there one single grace bestow.

Survey again that verdant hill,
With native plants enamell'd o'er;
Say, can the painter's utmost skill
Instruct one flow'r to please us more?

As vain it were, with artful dye,
To change the bloom thy cheeks disclose;
And, oh! may Laura, ere she try,
With fresh vermilion paint the rose.

Hark how the woodlark's tuneful throat
Can every study'd grace excel;
Let Art constrain the rambling note,
And will she, Laura, please so well?

Oh! ever keep thy native ease,
By no pedantic law confin'd;
For Laura's voice is form'd to please,
So Laura's words be not unkind.