LOVE AND A COMPASS
To the north of her mouth, east and west of her eyes,
By the curls of her tresses half hidden,
Two ears, of the tiniest, daintiest size,
Are kissed by the breezes unbidden.
And right to the north of each exquisite cheek
Lie her eyes, of a brilliancy tender.
Their color I know not, but in them I seek
Some sign of approaching surrender.
Due north of the dimple that hides in her chin,
Two lips conceal music behind them;
And when a smile plays on them, Cupids begin
To break from the bonds that confine them.
Just south of her chin stands a full-rounded throat,
Whose whiteness than marble is whiter;
Southeast and southwest of it, shoulders I note—
No curves are more graceful, or lighter.
In the south of her bosom, a bit to the west,
Is the greatest of all of her beauties:
My loadstar’s the heart that is hid in her breast;
To obey it’s my sweetest of duties.
S. D. Smith, Jr.
