To spoil our plans, a little dame:__
What should be done
Were she a colt and not a lass,
We might have turned her out to grass,
And let her run.
But she belonged to humankind,
And so we had to be resigned
To meet the worst.
Yet if the truth I must relate,
I'll own our love for her was great.
Yes, from the first.
And from the first her tiny form,
So soft and sweet and plump and warm,
Indeed seemed rare.
And as we view her small physique,
So strong, and yet withal so weak,
'Tis truly fair.
The "cutest" nose that ever was,
And hair that's little more than fuz
Belong to her.
Perhaps she lacks a brilliant chin,
But dearer lips could not have been,
I do aver.
The eyes, that gaze with wondering stare;
The hands, that clutch the vacant air;
The chiseled ear;
The chubby cheek; the wrinkled wrist;
The little body's writhe and twist;
Are all so dear.
We love to see her little feet,
More soft and dainty, pink and sweet,
Than quilt of down;
And then to wrap them close and tight
And snug and warm and out of sight
Within her gown.
Like Wordsworth's woman, "nobly planned",
She's fully gifted to command,
And has her way;
She cares not whom she keeps awake;
She recks not whom she makes to quake;
All must obey.
When 'tis her own sweet will she cries;
When 'tis her will her tears she dries;
Restraint she spurns.
No greater despot has been seen
In all the earth; and that she's queen
She well discerns.
Disdaining superficial wiles,
She seldom courts with witching smiles
And kindred arts.
She laughs when pleased, but not to please;
And yet with most mysterious ease
She's won our hearts.
___John Edward Everett
Quillings In Verse
John Edward Everett
(Smith Center: ___. 1912)