Classic Poem

Precious to Me — She still shall be —
Though She forget the name I bear —
The fashion of the Gown I wear —
The very Color of My Hair —

So like the Meadows — now —
I dared to show a Tress of Their's
If haply — She might not despise
A Buttercup's Array —

I know the Whole — obscures the Part —
The fraction — that appeased the Heart
Till Number's Empery —
Remembered — as the Milliner's flower
When Summer's Everlasting Dower —
Confronts the dazzled Bee.