"She's pretty to walk with, And witty to talk with; And pleasant, too, to think on." Sir John Suckling.
She has a beauty of her own, A beauty of a paler tone Than English belles. The Southern sun and Southern air, Have kissed her cheeks until they wear, The dainty tints that oft appear On rosy shells.
Her frank, clear eyes, bespeak a mind
Old-world traditions fail to bind. She is not shy Or bold, but simply self-possessed; Her independence adds a zest Unto her speech, her piquant jest, Her quaint reply.
O'er classic volumes she will pore
With joy; and true scholastic lore
Will often gain. In sports she bears away the bell— Rides, rows, sings ; nor, 'neath music's spell, To dance divinely, flirt as well, Does she disdain.