My Fancy

I PAINTED her a gushing thing,

With years perhaps a score;

I little thought to find they were

At least a dozen more;

My fancy gave her eyes of blue,

A curly, auburn head;

I came to find the blue a green,

The auburn turned to red.

She boxed my ears this morning—

They tingled very much;

I own that I could wish her

A somewhat lighter touch;

And if you were to ask me how

Her charms might be improved,

I would not have them added to,

But just a few removed!

She has the bear’s ethereal grace,

The bland hyena’s laugh,

The footstep of the elephant,

The neck of the giraffe.

I love her still, believe me,

Though my heart its passion hides;

“She is all my fancy painted her,”

But, oh, how much besides!