You'll know Her by Her Foot
You’ll know Her by Her Foot
The smallest Gamboge Hand
With Fingers where the Toes should be
Would more affront the Sand
Than this Quaint Creature’s Boot
Adjusted by a Stern
Without a Button I could vouch
Unto a Velvet Limb
You’ll know Her by Her Vest
Tight fitting Orange Brown
Inside a Jacket duller
She wore when she was born
Her Cap is small and snug
Constructed for the Winds
She’d pass for Barehead short way off
But as She Closer stands
So finer ’tis than Wool
You cannot feel the Seam
Nor is it Clasped unto of Band
Nor held upon of Brim
You’ll know Her by Her Voice
At first a doubtful Tone
A sweet endeavor but as March
To April hurries on
She squanders on your Ear
Such Arguments of Pearl
You beg the Robin in your Brain
To keep the other still