I Can’t Get Over That

Fair as the peach her rounded cheek,

     And sunny brown her hair;

Blue, dreamy sunbeams be her eyes,

     With which no skies compare.

But on her classic upper lip

     She hath a fuzzy mat;

And. tho’ I love her, O, so much,

     I can’t get over that.

Accomplished to the last degree

     Is she, and wealthy, too;

And were she mine I know there’d be

     No better-half more true.

And, yes, I’d wed her even now,

     And bid her defect “scat”,

But she’s another’s wife, and I

     I can’t get over that.

Nov. 5, 1894

Pub. in Boston

Courier, Dec. 16, ‘94