Classic Poem

For a look from her eyes, for a smile of her mouth
Any man might well give the best years of his youth;
For the touch of her hand, for the warmth of her kiss
Might well barter his chances of infinite bliss;

For her step is like sunlight that plays on the sea
And her bosom is snowy as snowy can be,
And her hair is a mantle inwoven with gold
Such as Queens might have worn in the legends of old;

And her chin oh so white, and her cheek oh so red,
They might well drive a man who should look at them mad;
But beneath the bright breast where her heart ought to be,
What is there? Why a trap to catch fools, sir, like me!