Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear, <br />With wisdom learnt from ancient teachers, <br />Now winter time once more is here, <br />This grease upon your lengthy features! <br />Behaving thus, your loyal friend <br />No whit encourages deception: <br />Believe me, Fairest, in the end <br />This oil will better your complexion. <br />Fairest, believe! <br /> <br />Did you imagine in the bag <br />To sleep the sleep of Rip Van Winkle, <br />Removed from sunshine's golden flag <br />And duller daylight's smallest twinkle? <br />Well have you earned your rest; but yet, <br />Although disturbance seem uncivil, <br />Unless your cheeks and chin be wet <br />With oil, your beauteousness will shrivel. <br />Rarest, believe! <br /> <br />Absorb, that, when for our delight <br />The May unpacks its lovely blossom, <br />With beaming face, with shoulders bright <br />You leave the bag's congenial bosom. <br />Then shall the Lover and his Lass <br />Walk out toward the pitch together, <br />And, glorying in the shaven grass, <br />Tackle, with mutual faith, the leather. <br />Dearest, absorb!<br /><br />Norman Rowland Gale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oiling/
