"The Musmee has brown velvet eyes Curtain’d with satin, sleepily; You wonder if those lids would rise The newest, strangest sight to see; But when she chatters, laughs, or plays Kôto, biwa, or samisen, No jewel gleams with brighter rays Than flash from those dark lashes then.The Musmee has a small brown face, “Musk-melon seed” its perfect shape: Jetty arch’d eyebrows; nose to grace The rosy mouth beneath; a nape, And neck, and chin, and smooth, soft cheeks Carv’d out of sunburn’d ivory, With teeth, which, when she smiles or speaks, Pearl merchants might come leagues to see!The Musmee’s hair could teach the night How to grow dark, the raven’s wing How to seem ebon! Grand the sight When, in rich masses, towering, She builds each high black-marble coil, And binds the gold and scarlet in; And thrusts, triumphant, through the toil The Kanzâshi, her jewell’d pin.The Musmee has wee, faultless feet, With snow-white tabi trimly deck’d, Which patter down the city street In short steps, slow and circumspect; A velvet string between her toes Holds to its place th’ unwilling shoe: Pretty and pigeonlike she goes, And on her head a hood of blue.The Musmee wears a wondrous dress— Kimono, obi, imoji— A rosebush in Spring loveliness Is not more colour-glad to see! Her girdle holds her silver pipe, And heavy swing her long silk sleeves With cakes, love-letters, mikan ripe, Small change, musk-bag, and writing-leaves.The Musmee’s heart is slow to grief, And quick to pleasure, dance, and song; The Musmee’s pocket-handkerchief A square of paper! All day long Gentle, and sweet, and debonair Is, rich or poor, this Asian lass: Heaven have her in its tender care, O medetó gozarimas!"