Won the Pot

J. R., in “The Columbia Spectator”

THAT little hand!

I hold it firm in mine,

And scan its outlines fine.

My eyes expand,

And grow with love intense and strong;

I gaze upon it fond and long,

That little hand!

It is so smooth, so pure and white,

And covered o’er with diamonds quite,

In beauty grand.

Oh, how I love it! See me press

It to my lips in fond caress,

That little hand!

There are no others fair as you!

I lay you down, and gladly too,

With manner bland.

It was a diamond flush and straight!

Soon may I hold its charming mate!

That little hand!