If only she were mine
I shall not need to pine!
Her touch would make me feel so fine
Her beauty such a treat to dine
Her eyes pouring most strangest wine
Her smile more warmer than sunshine
Her hairs knit like a cotton-twine
Her tempting looks when dressed to nine
Her curves some curly creeping vine
Her fingers, each ending into a tine
And gather in becoming one straight line
Her modest speech so sweet and benign
And yet her lips in taste saline
And from her thoughts when I resign
I find solace in her dreams divine
And more of her could I define
If only she were mine
If only she were mine
