by WD Chase

Lovely woman standing there, fair of eyes, face, and hair.

I've seen your countenance before, but I know not where.

Perhaps it was only in my dreams, for that's perfections lair.

To you soft, sweet things I'd say, but you'd only tell me to go away.
 

I dare not chance such a cruel rebuff, so I suffer here in silence.

In time to come perhaps I'll say: "I saw you here just the other day."

Then you'll reply: "I saw you too, what is it you come here to do?"
 

Here's the problem that I face; I 'd find myself in complete disgrace,