by Samuel Alfred Beadle
I know a sweet suburban girl,
She’s witty, bright and brief;
With dimples in her cheeks; and pearl
In rubies set, for teeth.
Beneath her glossy raven hair
There beams the hazel eye,
Bright as the star of evening there
Where the yellow sunbeams die.
Her breath is like a flower blown,
In fragrance and perfume;
Her voice seems from the blissful throne
Where their harps the angels tune.
Her waist is just a trifle more
Than a cubit in its girth;
But when there my arms I throw,
I’ve all there is of earth.
And when she turns her dimpled cheek
Toward me for a kiss,
I lose expression—cannot speak—
And take all there is of bliss.
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