No wood-nymph, clad in gossamer,
A-treading daisied meads,
No saintly nun, from sun to sun
A-telling of her beads:
She’s not the girl who wept upon
Our shirt-front on the quay!
She is no Frenchified Mignonne!
No Scotch lass frae the Dee!
No leaf culled from Romance’s page,
No scintillating star,