Sketch From The Life, A

Its eyes are gray;             Its hair is either brown                     Or black;     And, strange to say,             Its dresses button down                     The back!     It wears a plume             That loves to frisk around                     My ear.     It crowds the room             With cushions in a mound                     And queer     Old rugs and lamps             In corners a la Turque                     And things.     It steals my stamps,             And when I want to work                     It sings!     It rides and skates,             But then it comes and fills                     My walls     With plaques and plates             And keeps me paying bills                     And calls.     It's firm; and if             I should my many woes                     Deplore,     'Twould only sniff             And perk its little nose                     Some more.     It's bright, though small;             Its name, you may have guessed,                     Is "Wife."     But, after all,             It gives a wondrous zest                     To life!