'Tis not for me to doubt her wonder,
1
I quite believe each word you say;
In fact, I think you rather under-
Than over-praise your "fiancée";
'Tis no mere compliment I pay,
5
In her, I see, all charms are met,
As lovely as the month of May:
But tell me—have you seen Annette?
A beauty without blot or blunder,
9
A thing of dew and dawn and spray;
A dove high up against the thunder
Were not so white and far away;
Her face—well, you just want to pray!
13
Too lovely to believe, and yet
A woman—woman all the way:
Ah! tell me—have you seen Annette?
The wild bees, weighted down with plunder,
17
Wise in all blossom, even they
Find no flower like her lips asunder;
And who should in her bosom stray,
And taste that honey, falleth fey
21
Forever—ne'er shall he forget
The sweetness till his dying day:
Ah, tell me—have you seen Annette?
Prince, should you see her—lack-a-day!
25
Deep in your castle's oubliette
Were I—she is so fair a prey:
Ah! tell me—have you seen Annette?