Now was the moment when the maid would melt,
My buttoned jacket helpfully revealing
The graces of a figure trimly svelte,
But, all unworthy to adorn a poet
Who'd bought it for a fabulous amount,
Just as I knelt to put the question, lo, it
Popped on its own account.
The button, dodging my attempts to hide it,
Rolled to her very feet and rested there,
And when I laid my loving heart beside it