On her bright sparkling face,
Excelling, as butterfly’s better than grub,
Those unlucky “retroussés” in plain English, “snub,”
Which men always pretend to, and often desire,
But never can really and truly admire;
She followed her nose
To (I blush to disclose
For it does seem so forward; but then no one knows
The whys and the wherefores, the cons and the pros,
Which decide other folks; in the fair sex our trust is