Lizzie   Leave a comment

Above:  The Blue Lady, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Let lovers rave ’bout “maidens fair,”

But Lizzie is the fairest,

And talk of “dispositions rare,”

But Lizzie’s is the rarest.


Those eyes are where the god-boy steals,

To shoot his keenest darts,

She looks and then the victim feels

The pleasing, painful smarts.


As for a round, plumb, bonny face,

I’m sure there’s none can beat her,

I don’t know how her lips would taste,

But guess that none e’er were sweeter.


For lovely form and graceful air

E’en Venus can’t excel her,

But why should I  thus rant and rear?

She has another fellow.


This my life’s unchanging tale,

I oughtn’t have sought to win her,

He ought to never bob for a whale

Who couldn’t catch a minnow.


Posted March 11, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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