The statuette stands in the window, Her hands upon her hips, A smile of subtle coldness Upon her crystal lips. A shapely little figure, Unhappy little jade, A tear beneath each eyelid In crystal ice is laid. I would not be a statue With breasts so high and round. Nor do I harbor envy; She cannot make a sound. Though lacking her perfection, I am a happy lass For I can say "I love you" With warmer lips than glass. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POPLAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE A PRAYER IN SPRING by ROBERT FROST TWO LIVES: CONCLUSION. INDIAN SUMMER by WILLIAM ELLERY LEONARD RAIN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE POET'S SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON |