Round the pink’d rims of crisped Valentine.
Her china-closet, cause of daily care,
For woman’s wonder held her pencill’d ware;
That pictured wealth of China and Japan,
Like its cold mistress, shunn’d the eye of man.
Her neat small room, adorn’d with maiden-taste,
A clipp’d French puppy, first of favourites, graced:
A parrot next, but dead and stuff’d with art;
(For Poll, when living, lost the Lady’s heart,
And then his life; for he was heard to speak