• Her smile was shaped like other smiles —

    The Dimples ran along —

    And still it hurt you, as some Bird

    Did hoist herself, to sing,

    Then recollect a Ball, she got —

    And hold upon the Twig,

    Convulsive, while the Music broke —

    Like Beads — among the Bog —

  • If Nature smiles — the Mother must

    I'm sure, at many a whim

    Of Her eccentric Family —

    Is She so much to blame?