95 To the Portrait of “A Lady”

WELL, Miss, I wonder where you live,

I wonder what ’s your name,

I wonder how you came to be

In such a stylish frame;

Perhaps you were a favorite child,

Perhaps an only one;

Perhaps your friends were not aware

You had your portrait done!

Yet you must be a harmless soul;

I cannot think that Sin

Would care to throw his loaded dice,

With such a stake to win;

I cannot think you would provoke

The poet’s wicked pen,

Or make young women bite their lips,

Or ruin fine young men.

Pray, did you ever hear, my love,

Of boys that go about,

Who, for a very trifling sum,

Will snip one’s picture out?

I ’m not averse to red and white,

But all things have their place,

I think a profile cut in black

Would suit your style of face!

I love sweet features; I will own

That I should like myself

To see my portrait on a wall,

Or bust upon a shelf;

But nature sometimes makes one up

Of such sad odds and ends,

It really might be quite as well

Hushed up among one’s friends!