The fairest pattern of your kind;—
Lace patterns, now, alone I view,
And fancy muslins rule my mind.
Dearest and fairest! oh, forgive
The thought that prompts this simple lay;
'Tis just to tell you where I live—
I see you passing, every day.
I may, perchance, have measured short
The lines that are not in my line;
For yards, not feet, are now my forte,