Classic Poem

There is a freckle just below thine ear
That might have been a theme for Shakespeare's art ...
A fleck of gold out of thy golden heart,
A stain that makes thy stainlessness more dear,
Tossed by thy tidal blood as flotsam here
In its warm voyage through every lovely part ...
Hang Shakespeare, Sue! And don't let freckles start!
I'd just as lief see optics with a blear.

Your hair's your one best bet. Hold on to that.
My Eighth Wife had that silly freckle notion ...
I soaked the poor girl in a vat of lotion
So much that presently she pined away. . . .
She never had been very strong nor fat. . . .
These dear dead women, Sue! Ah, welladay!