My Sweetheart

1895

Her eyes are made for loving; her lips are made for kissing;
Upon her cheeks the roses go playing hide and seek.
Her form is like a seraph's; no angel grace is missing.
To have her and to hold her I am her servant meek.

She loves me to distraction; her every action shows it.
She comes without the asking to sit upon my knee,
Nor cares a continental if everybody knows it,
Because she calls me "papa," this little maid of three!

— Detroit Free Press.