She's not what fancy painted her— I'm sadly taken in: If some one else had won her, I Should not have cared a pin. I thought that she was mild and good As maiden e'er could be; I wonder how she ever could Have so much humbugg'd me. They cluster round and shake my hand— They tell me I am blest: My case they do not understand— I think that I know best. They say she's fairest of the fair— They drive me mad and madder. What do they mean by it? I swear I only wish they had her. 'Tis true that she has lovely locks, That on her shoulders fall; What would they say to see the box In which she keeps them all? Her taper fingers, it is true, 'Twere difficult to match: What would they say if they but knew How terribly they scratch? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 41 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BISHOP BLOUGRAM'S APOLOGY by ROBERT BROWNING SIMMENTHAL by FREDERICK WILLIAM HENRY MYERS DARBY AND JOAN by FREDERIC EDWARD WEATHERLY STEADFASTNESS; THE LOVER BESEECHETH HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS WYATT |