I see into the soul of you—if old,
Or young, or ravishingly beautiful,
Or goofy as a cheeping, blue-eyed frog.
For you are true and honest, free and bold,
And not for e’en a moment are you dull.
Your skin may be as rough as some old log,
Or smooth as is a slick and juicy peach;
Your ears may flap in wind, or be so small
A telescope can’t bring, for eyeball’s reach,
That little hole to spy you sweet brain’s wall.
But through your light-heart posts can I explore
The spirit of all spirits I adore,
And so I pledge to praise you evermore,
And though I see no lips or eyes or chin,
It’s you I cheer for your whole lifelong win.