Idylettes Of The Queen

I. - SHE      I fain would write on pleasant themes;          So let me prate          Awhile of Kate;      And if my rhyming effort seems          Uncouth or rough,             At any rate,             She's Kate,          And that's enough.      II. - HER EYES      Her eyes are bright -         I cannot say "like stars at night,"          Nor can I say         "Like the Orb of Day,"      Because such phrases are archaic.         And if I swear         That they compare         With diamonds rare,      That's too prosaic.      I've hunted my thesaurus through,      "The Century" and "Webster," too,         But all in vain;         'Tis therefore plain      That they who made these books so wise      Had never seen her eyes!      III. - HER GOWN      When Kate puts on her Sunday gown         And goes to church all in her best,      The watchful gargoyles looking down      Relax their most forbidding frown,         And smile with kindly interest.      Discerning gargoyles! could I be         One of your number looking down,      With you I surely would agree      And share your amiability         At sight of Kate and Sunday gown.      IV. - HER KNOWLEDGE      How much she knows no one can tell;      But she can read and write and spell,         Divide and multiply and add,         And name the apples Thomas had      When John enticed him five to sell.      For "jelly" she does not say "jell,"      Nor horrify us with "umbrell,"         For all of which we're very glad -          How much she knows!      She knows the oyster by his shell,      Detects the newsboy by his yell,         Enumerates the bones in shad,         And thinks my poetry is bad.      Well! well! well! well! well! well! well! well!          How much she knows!      V. - HER SIGH      When she utters a sigh         'Tis a breath from the roses,      And a-hovering nigh,      When she utters a sigh,      The bees wonder why         No garden discloses.      When she utters a sigh         'Tis a breath from the roses.      VI. - HER RING      Her ring goes round her finger.         Oh, foolish thing!         Were I a ring,      I'd not "go round" - I'd linger!      VII. - HER FAULTS      Of faults she has but one,      And that is, she has none.      VIII. - HER VOICE      Sweet and soothing, rhythmic, tuneful,      Dulcet, mellow, unbassoonful,             Zither, 'cello, lute, guitar,             And there you are!      IX. - HER LOVE      Do you love me?      R. S. V. P.