Sit down, and be a breezing almond-eyed love who won't, won't age (like me!)
And stay a soft-curled chestnut girl of mine
whose hair's tufted just for me
who can't fade, and won't 'cause she's divine Pout, and sigh and offer a gracile
self, tanned to the tip of your soft silk arms
Say (and I'd like to say)
that homes tall as pines, pearly mountain snows would have made any prince mad
and more especially me who'd gladly never die,
not til I'd tower over you, too
Dance, and dress and speak and kiss, too, shad-
ing into elegant perfume nights--
the jesuitical -oh! mad heart- in me may open doors
for you so you be more for me,
seeing she was by a tall pouty, soft-lipped prince kissed once (and then set free).
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