When my love swears that she is made of truth,
All I can do is blame it on her youth.
Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
The outline of her girdle shows.
Gather ye Rosebuds while ye may
But take your little pill each day.
There is a garden in her face;
Her dermatologist has the case.
ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE
When hounds of spring are on winter’s traces,
The rich take off for warmer places.