William was holding in his hand
The likeness of his wife!
Fresh, as if touched by fairy wand,
With beauty, grace, and life.
He almost thought it spoke:–he gazed
Upon the bauble still,
Absorbed, delighted, and amazed,
To view the artist’s skill.
“This picture is yourself, dear Jane–
‘Tis drawn to nature true:
I’ve kissed it o’er and o’er again,
It is much like you.”
“And has it kissed you back, my dear?”
“Why–no–my love,” said he.
“Then, William, it is very clear
‘Tis not at all LIKE ME!”
(George Pope Morris)
More Poetry from George Pope Morris:
George Pope Morris Poems based on Topics: Love, Life, Beauty, Art- The Maid Of Saxony; Or, Who's The Traitor? - Act II (George Pope Morris Poems)
- New-York in 1826. (George Pope Morris Poems)
- The Millionaire. (George Pope Morris Poems)
- Address For The Benefit Of Henry Placide. (George Pope Morris Poems)
- "The Dog-Star Rages." (George Pope Morris Poems)
- Fragment Of An Indian Poem. (George Pope Morris Poems)