Eugene Field

Jessie

When I remark her golden hair
  Swoon on her glorious shoulders,
I marvel not that sight so rare
  Doth ravish all beholders;
For summon hence all pretty girls
  Renowned for beauteous tresses,
And you shall find among their curls
  There's none so fair as Jessie's.

And Jessie's eyes are, oh, so blue
  And full of sweet revealings—
They seem to look you through and through
  And read your inmost feelings;
Nor black emits such ardent fires,
  Nor brown such truth expresses—
Admit it, all ye gallant squires—
  There are no eyes like Jessie's.

Her voice (like liquid beams that roll
    From moonland to the river)
Steals subtly to the raptured soul,
    Therein to lie and quiver;
Or falls upon the grateful ear
    With chaste and warm caresses—
Ah, all concede the truth (who hear):
    There's no such voice as Jessie's.

Of other charms she hath such store
    All rivalry excelling,
Though I used adjectives galore,
    They'd fail me in the telling;
But now discretion stays my hand—
    Adieu, eyes, voice, and tresses.
Of all the husbands in the land
    There's none so fierce as Jessie's.