I see her sitting all alone
she is a bag of bone
sullen and solemn she is
know not from where she is
She sits there for a long time
I could hear the church bells chime
motionless she is like a statue
perplexing she is to view.
She looks like a picture beautiful
her features drawn like and wonderful
there I could see a sadness writ in all
perhaps she had escaped a fall.
By fall, I mean, anything not literally
could be one of a turmoil psychologically
the painting as she resembles unassumingly
would blow up the hearts of men intimately.