Classic Poem

I HAVE a heart; pray, do not go,
Sweet ladies, all and some.
It beats for you " Plan-plan! " for, lo,
'Tis hollow as a drum!

Behold my soft and softening eyes!
The fading star of morn
Hangs not so sweetly in the skies:
Why blaze yours then with scorn?

My tongue drops honey like a hive;
My hands are soft and small.
What! I am only five feet five!
Well, some are not so tall.

Look at the diamonds on my breast,
My golden chain and locket,
My many suits, all of the best —
And never mind my pocket.

Pathetic songs of love I sing,
And you may have your choice:
I play; I flash my diamond ring;
Falsetto is my voice.

I tread a higher walk of art
Than he who plights his troth,
Then breaks it, and the maiden's heart:
Such clumsy work I loathe.

A gold and silver mine for me
Is every blooming maid;
With tongue and eye I work, and she
Scarce feels the pick and spade.

To strike a tender, golden vein,
And draw it from the eyes
In glowing glances; with a chain
Of welded words and sighs.

To raise a blush upon the face;
Or with dynamic power
Explode the thought's most hidden place;
And at the parting hour

To gain a little fluttering sigh:
These are my art's high aims;
And in its practice I will die
In spite of nasty names.

A male coquette? Well, be it so:
The pig delights in dirt,
The poet in his verses flow;
And I was born to flirt.