Your dainty Muse her form arrays
In soft brocades of bygone days.
She walks old gardens where the dews
Gem sundials and trim-cut yews
And tremble on the tulip's blaze.
The magic scent her charm conveys
Which lives on when the rose decays.
She had her portrait done by Greuze—
Your dainty Muse!
Mine's hardier—walks life's muddy ways
Barefooted; preaches, sometimes prays,
Is modern, is advanced, has views;
Goes in for lectures, reads the news,
And sends her homespun verse to praise
Your dainty Muse!