My Irish Queen

           I.

Jet black her hair,

     With eyes of blue;

Her skin is dark

     Of gypsy hue.

Her lips of wine

Where smiles pursue

And pearls between.

           II.

Divinely tall,

     And slender she;

A form to cause

     The Gods to flee.

A limb that shames

     All chiselry,

Has my Coleen.

           III.

Mayhap you think

     I overdraw

This love of mine

     By cupid’s law.

It is because,

     You never saw

My Irish Queen.

Dec. 28, ‘97

(dated as “’98”, but all adjoining poems were changed to “’97”)