There moves, full-bodiced, ripe, and human,
With merry smiles to all who come,
Karl Schæffer’s wife,—the very woman
Whom Rubens drew his Venus from!
But what a host of tricksome graces
Play round our fairy Undine here,
Who pouts at all the bearded faces,
And, laughing, brings the Lager Bier.
“Sit down, nor chase the vision farther,
You’re tied to Yankee cities still!”