With All Your False
Your hair that glitters in the sun
Thrills me with loverlike emotions;
(Although I know its gold is done
With various lotions).
I love your lips of luscious rose,
Your brows so delicately pencilled,
(Though I have reason to suppose
That they are stencilled).
Your shell-like ears, so faintly pink,
Your cheeks, whose blush is merely hinted,
I love them too (although I think
Their hues are tinted.
Your neck and shoulders rouse delight,
And set my heart to beating louder,
(Although I know their snowy white
Is liquid powder).
But it's your eyes that stir romance,
Your eyes, (whose bella-donna flashes),
Whose artful shadows so enhance
Your loaded lashes.
Though artificial be their thrill,
And though their fascination be a
Cosmetic urge, I call you still "Mascara mia!"