THY voice hath naught of the Lorelei lure To hold men in its thrall; Of pitch and key thou art oft not sure At all. Thy form and features, thy teeth and hair To others may seem a feast. I know of a thousand maids as fair, At least. Of piquant ways and I-don't-know-what, Of merriment, art, and wit, It seemeth to me that thou hast not A bit. I never was one to raise my brow, I never was one to scoff; But I simply can't see, my dear, where thou Get'st off. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ARMAGEDDON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO THE NIGHTINGALE by ANNE FINCH TO THE NIGHTINGALE by JOHN MILTON A FORSAKEN GARDEN by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE PESSIMIST AND OPTIMIST by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |