know that she can not be mine
despite my destitute and famine
but she is a mere beauty
I saw her smicket glimmering with superfluity
her fruitive memories are nice and fine
but I did not purpose her nor she decline
who will persuade her or make an entreaty
offer a pardon to her or make an amnesty
her frilly frock is flabbergasted and intertwine
my eyes are hopeful and filled with a brine
but the tables of luck can turn with acuity
and my love for her is without vacuity