'Tis not alone that she is fair,
And hath a wealth of golden hair;
'Tis not that she can play and sing,
To charm a critic or a king;
'Tis not that she is gentle, kind,
And wears no chignon huge behind,
Nor high-heeled boot, nor corset laced
To show her slenderness of waist;
'Tis not that she can talk with ease
On well-nigh any theme you please;
'Tis not that she can row, and ride,
And do a dozen things beside: —
The reasons why I love Miss Brown
Are that she never wears a frown,
Ne'er sulks, or pouts, or mopes, or frets,
Or fusses about "styles" or "sets;"
Ne'er nurses lapdogs by the fire,
Nor bids her friends their charms admire;
Ne'er bets upon the Derby day,
And when she's lost omits to pay;
By bonnets does not bound her talk,
And is not indisposed to walk;
Ne'er bullies her small brothers, nor
Esteems their childish games a bore:
With pigments ne'er her cheek defiles,
Nor practises coquettish wiles;
Needs not a maid to pack her things,
Nor plagues papa for diamond rings:
On biscuits is content to lunch;
Loves Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, and Punch.
Never descends to vulgar slang,
And ne'er was known the door to bang!
