“Phyllis, if I could I’d paint you

As I see you sitting there,

You distracting little saint, you,

With your aureole of hair.

If I only were an artist,

And such glances could be caught,

You should have the very smartest

Picture frame that can be bought!

“Phyllis, since I can’t depict your

Charms, or give you aught but fame,

Will you be yourself the picture?

Will you let me be the frame?

Whose protecting clasp may bind you

Always—”

“Nay,” cried Phyllis; “hold,

Or you’ll force me to remind you

Paintings must be framed with gold!”