Classic Poem

How can one tire in solitudes and nooks,
Graced by the steps, enlightened by the looks,
Of the most piquant of Princesses,
With little darling foot, and long dark tresses?
A turn-up nose too, between you and me,
Has something that attracts me mightily.
My loving days, I must confess, are over,
A fact it does me honour to discover;
Though, I suppose, whether I love or not,
That brute, the public, will not care a jot:—
The dev'l a bit will their hard hearts look to it.
But should it happen, some fine day,
That anything should lead me round that way
A long and beaky nose will certainly not do it.