MY first, thou ’rt beautiful. Thy noble brow,
Thy curving mouth, and straight and classic nose,
All, all are dear to me. And though thou hast
But scanty raiment, though both arms are gone,
And though some toes are missing, even thus,
To those who know thee and who love thee well,
Thou art a thing of beauty and a joy.

An ancient poet, famous for his lyre,
With death was threatened by some wicked rogues.
Courageously escaping from their clutch,
He rode triumphantly upon my whole,
Swiftly propelled and balanced by my last.