She lay there - not naked, not clothed, asleep;
My eyes drew - tracing, retracing, her form.
There was a sheet through which I tried to peep
Which to her edges strictly did conform.
Parts of her body I boldly etched -
Her bosom, her face, her midriff, her waist
Some other parts were very faintly sketched -
Her ears, her arms were recorded in haste.
I realized I had not looked past her knees;
Perhaps my sketch did not look as it ought;
So my attention shifted some degrees,
Of other pictures, other girls, I thought...
Through all those woes, it was lust I suppose
I knew not the eyes, I drew not the toes.
