You'll know Her-by Her Foot-
The smallest Gamboge Hand
With Fingers-where the Toes should be-
Would more affront the Sand-

Than this Quaint Creature's Boot-
Adjusted by a Stern-
Without a Button-I could vouch-
Unto a Velvet Limb-

You'll know Her-by Her Vest-
Tight fitting-Orange-Brown-
Inside a Jacket duller-
She wore when she was born-

Her Cap is small-and snug-
Constructed for the Winds-
She'd pass for Barehead-short way off-
But as She Closer stands-

So finer 'tis than Wool-
You cannot feel the Seam-
Nor is it Clasped unto of Band-
Nor held upon-of Brim-

You'll know Her-by Her Voice-
At first-a doubtful Tone-
A sweet endeavor-but as March
To April-hurries on-

She squanders on your Ear
Such Arguments of Pearl-
You beg the Robin in your Brain
To keep the other-still-