Sit down, and be a breezing almond-eyed love
who won't, won't age (like me!)
And stay a soft-curled chestnut girl of mine
whose hair's tufted just for me
who can't age, and won't age 'cause she's divine
Pout, and sigh and offer umber
necks, smoothed to surround white silk arms
Say (and I'd like to say)
that trees for tall doors, snow for pearly eyes
would have made any prince mad,
any and much more me who'd gladly not die,
not til I'd tower over you, too
Dance, and dress and speak and kiss, too, shad-
ing into elegant perfume night
and, jesuitical -oh! mad heart-I may open a door
for you & you be more for me,
seeing she was by a tall pouty, soft-lipped prince
once kissed (and then made sad).
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